Running to Stand Still
by alaricnomad
Summary: LucasPeyton. Post S3. After a night of intended comfort turns into one of passion, Peyton resolves to bury the lingering feelings between her and Lucas and leave it all behind. Little does she know how the past is bound to catch up to her. IN PROGRESS.
1. Chapter One: Little Mistakes

**Running to Stand Still**

By Alaric Nomad

**Chapter One: Little Mistakes**

She would never forget what it was to see him as he came stumbling into her room that night, soaked to the bone and completely drenched from the tumultuous storm raging outside. She remembered rearing up in bed from the shock of his sudden appearance, warily watching the silhouette of his trembling form, towering over her, outlined with shadow.

He was shaking, rigid and tense as she rose from the bed and cautiously approached him, placing her hands carefully against his shoulders. His muscled were knotted and stiff beneath her touch, and she tentatively spoke his name.

"Lucas?"

Her voice was low, barely audible, but he seemed to relax ever so slightly, opening his eyes to look at her. Her breath caught in her throat at the raw, vulnerable emotion evident in their soft blue, the usually vivid hue dulled by the heartache held so poignantly in his gaze. He swallowed hard, turning his face away to stare dully at the floor. "Peyton…"

A low, strangled sound rose from his throat, and he was suddenly falling into her, his body wracking with sobs, his face wet with more than the rain. She leaned back, setting them both against the bed to support the sudden dead weight of his body.

Peyton wrapped her arms around him, cradling his head against her chest as he clung to her, crying quietly in muted sobs that quaked his whole body, causing her to hold him all the more closer, as if for once she could be the one to shelter him from the pains of the world and not the other way around.

She combed her fingers through his damp hair, soothingly rubbing his back as she whispered comforting, nonsensical words in his ear, unintelligible but for the reassuring utterance of his name.

"Luke…it's okay, it's going to be okay."

He buried his face in her chest, soaking the long t-shirt she used for nightwear but she paid it little mind, pressing a kiss to his hair, his brow. Slowly, the violence of his tremors began to quiet and his tears ceased to fall, and he relaxed against her, his eyes closing as his breath eased into a slow, steady rhythm. She would have thought him asleep if not for his soft, quizzical whisper.

"Peyt?"

She tried her best to smile for him, though the gesture came out pale and wan, but he would not have noticed anyway. His eyes stayed shut to the world around him, groping blindly for her hand, which she gave to him, and he gripped it tightly, their fingers enlacing as he raised the entwined limbs and pressed his lips to her palm. She smiled lightly at the affection. "I don't want to be alone. Could I…"

"Stay here?" He nodded numbly, and she made a soft sound of affirmation, smoothing her fingers down the side of his face, gently tracing the curve of his cheek. Lucas smiled at the caress, leaning into it. "Of course you can. Do you want to talk about it?"

He hesitated, licking his lips, and then tentatively nodded, scooting closer to her as they came precariously close to falling over the edge of the bed, adjusting to their new position as his body curled around her and his head fell into her lap, one hand still entwined with hers, the other fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

Any other time, she would have blanched at the intimacy of contact they had been sharing, but this was Lucas and now was not the time to think beyond him and her. Concern and more than a little worry filled her at the tired, stricken look in his eyes, as well as gratitude for the semblance of calm that seemed to settle over him as he pressed close to her.

No, she would offer anything she could and consequences be damned. She would give anything to ease the broken man reflected in gentle blue eyes the color of a summer sky.

Peyton pressed a kiss to his forehead, her fingers slowly stroking his hair. "Talk to me, Luke. Tell me what this is."

He averted his eyes, nestling closer as if still a child seeking a mother's comfort, and he began to whisper, his tone barely audible if she had not been listening for it. "Keith…Keith was everything to me, Peyt. He was like my father, and he made my mom the happiest I've ever seen her. And that bastard…he took that all away. He's my father, Peyton, he's my fucking father! How could he do something like that! How could he take away the one person…the one person who made me feel like I was worth something, that I could make something of myself. Dan fucking Scott…that son of a bitch is nothing but a goddamn murderer."

He shook, not from chill or tears but from pure intensity of raging emotions and his chest heaved for breath as she held him close, unable to offer more than the comfort of her presence as she closed her eyes, remembering.

The last few months following the school shooting had been hell for everyone, from the accident that landed Rachel and Nathan in the hospital and Cooper in an early grave, Karen's pregnancy and Brooke and Lucas' second scare, to the sudden revelation of Dan's involvement in Keith's death.

"It's too much, Peyt, I feel like I'm going to suffocate. The shooting…Keith…it all left such a huge gap in me…and now Nathan's pushing everyone away after Cooper didn't make it, and Haley's hurting and there's nothing I can do…and now Mom, Mom and the baby…"

Deb had been devastated at Cooper's passing and Nathan had had to deal with her as well as his own grief, only to have his world thrown for a loop once more by Dan's betrayal. He was on a downward spiral, pushing away everyone around him, including his new wife. Haley could only watch from the sidelines as her husband slowly died inside while pretending everything was okay, refusing to let her in.

With Dan arrested and awaiting trial for the first-degree murder of Keith Scott, the reopening of the wounds caused by Keith's death laid an extreme stress on Karen, resulting in her collapsing one day in her second month, landing her in the hospital. With her slowly recuperating, and Haley and Deb out of commission, the café was closed, meaning Lucas had to take on a part-time job to keep their finances afloat.

"It's too much, Peyt," he gasped out, staring at her with wide, desperate, pain-filled eyes, "It's too fucking much. It's going to kill me. I'm not enough. I'm not enough for anyone. I couldn't save Keith…I can't help Nathan or Haley or even my mom. I'm failing everyone."

"Lucas…" she smoothed back the hair from his eyes, touching her hand to his cheek, "You're not Superman, you can't save everyone. No one expects you to be anything but human, Luke. You can't take the weight of the world on your shoulders. It'll crush you."

He nodded with a moment's hesitation, and she took his face in her hands, gently guiding his face up to meet her eyes, "You understand, Luke? It's not your fault."

"Yes…I understand, Peyt," he whispered adamantly, raising himself into a seating position beside her, scooting closer to lean his head against hers, pressing his cheek to hers, "You're good to me, Peyton, too good to me."

"Someone has to be, Luke. The world's coming down on you, and you don't deserve that."

He snorted, his breath fanning across her skin. "Y'know, Brooke doesn't think so."

"You two on the rocks again?"

"Yeah. Last fight we had… I was late picking her up the other night, pissed her off, brought out a lot of the same shit and now we're on the outs." He laughed, the sound bitter and humorless. "Last I heard from her, she said I was a selfish asshole and she wanted nothing more to do with me."

She smiled softly. "I'm sorry, Luke," she replied, knowing how badly he and Brooke had been, on and off since the fight at Nathan and Haley's wedding, "She'll come around." She put as much optimism in her voice as she could, but with the way she felt about him, it was not easy.

Lucas smiled weakly. "Sure." He looked at her for a moment, his face so close, and he lightly skimmed his lips over hers in a whisper-soft caress, slipping his arms around her waist to bring her closer. He pulled back just a breath, cupping her face in his hands. "Peyton…you're always here…always here when I need you. I need you, Peyt."

His mouth slanted over hers, gentle but firm, her lips parting beneath his to allow him access, and he kissed her deeply, languorously, a flush of ardor and molten heat that enveloped them from first contact. A need, a want, so deep it touched the heart and the soul, that could not be denied, could not be refuted, could not be dismissed.

He pressed her back against the bed, groaning softly as his body settled over hers, and her mouth found his in another fervent kiss. His hands buried in her hair, tilting back her head to further deepen the kiss. A heat rose inside of him, a steady flame of desire that washed over him, a growing ache to be felt in every inch of his being.

Her hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, sliding up the smooth, sleek expanse of his back, felt the rippling of definitive muscles beneath her touch. He broke the kiss long enough to pull the garment over his head, tossing it to the floor without thought to its destination. He smiled down at her, running his hands down her sides and raining kisses along her neck and shoulder, down to the sliver of creamy skin exposed by her t-shirt riding up.

He hovered above her abdomen and lightly exhaled, his warm breath brushing against sensitive skin with all the sensuality of a caress. A shiver ran down her spine, warmth pooling in her belly as she drew his head up to meet her in another kiss.

There was something different about this kiss, something soft and sweet and warm, just a light press of her lips to his. He inhaled softly, nuzzling against her neck, his mouth pressing to her throat. "Peyt…"

"Hmm?" She gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, lulled into a languid, hazy state of pure sensuality by his ministrations.

He pressed a kiss to the place just below her ear, a shiver running through his body as he trembled against her, his skin cold to the touch as her hands splayed across his back. "Lucas?"

"Tell me to stop, Peyton. Tell me you don't want this, don't want me." He nipped at her neck, his trembling increasing. "Tell me you hate me…tell me anything…cause I want you so bad…I can't make myself stop."

Peyton closed her eyes, swallowing against the storm of emotions threatening to emerge, pushing forward until logic and rationale had no place in her mind. She skimmed her hands downward, rubbing his arms in an attempt to warm them.

One night. One night, countless preceding mistakes, countless missed opportunities, countless forsaken chances. How much had they all gone through, how much had they suffered and given up? One night…could she have it?

She opened her eyes to meet his, expressive, vulnerable hazel-green to quiet, somber blue, and she touched her fingers to his cheek, kissing him softly. "I wish I could, Luke…but I can't…because I need you too…"

He took in a deep, shuddering breath, his body resting fully over hers. "Then," he said simply, his voice a low, husky whisper, "We're both done for."

His mouth closed over hers, all rational thought flew out the proverbial window, and passion took precedence, chasing away everything but that incredible heat sparked between them.


	2. Chapter Two: Bittersweet Surrender

Running to Stand Still

**Running to Stand Still**

By Alaric Nomad

**Chapter Two: Bittersweet Surrender**

Peyton awoke sometime in the middle of the night in the feeling of his arms around her, the radiating warmth of his body pressed against her back as they lay spooned together, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept soundly. She lay there for a long while, just listening to the sound of his breathing, idly skimming her fingers along the arm around her waist. Warm, weathered skin over cords of unyielding muscle, covered in a down of fine golden hair, richly browned by long hours under the sunlight.

She traced her hand upward, taking in the contours of his body, turning in the circles of his arms to better see him. She commits everything about him to sensory memory, the sharp lines and rigid muscle of his body, the strong set of his jaw and chin, the rugged attractiveness mixed with the sweet innocence of his face that made him so damn beautiful.

She lost herself in her ministrations, her eyes following every movement of her fingers as she caressed his skin, pressed her lips to the curve of his shoulder, the hollow of his throat…tasted the lingering salt of his perspiration, felt the thrumming rhythm of his pulse beneath her kiss.

Lost in this, she did not see him awaken, did not see him gaze down at her through hooded eyes, eyes darkened with a deep, sultry poignancy, a hand raising to cup her chin and turn her face to his. She did not see until his mouth fixed over hers, hungry, and a heat raged inside, overwhelming anything else in mind or body until she found herself pressing close once more, wanting him, needing him.

Lucas made not a sound, said not a word, fueling that want and need with every touch, every kiss, stoking the passion in her until the inferno threatened to burn her from the inside out, with hands, with mouth, silently demanding more and more, thriving on each breathless moan, each cry of his name. As he was inside her, and they moved in fervent rhythm, racing toward completion, it was his hands with a firm, but gentle, hold on her hips, guiding her to move with him, his eyes never leaving hers, still shadowed and hazy with the same heavy emotions.

She slept in his embrace once more, sated and exhausted, lulled into slumber by the cadence of his heartbeat. He held her close through the night, sheltering her with his strength, as if that if he ever let her go, she would drift away out of his reach.

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She was met by the same blue of his eyes upon waking, but it was no longer the same man staring back at her. The man reflected in their clear, summer-sky hues was no stranger, but also no longer the lover she had known the night before. No, this Lucas was much more achingly familiar…the golden boy, the rescuer, the heartbreaker…the one who didn't belong to her. Disappointment, longing, regret created flecks of grey in his gaze, immediately putting her ill at ease as she rolled out of his embrace, determined just to put some distance between them.

"Peyton…" his voice was tired, surrendering, yet vulnerable and questioning.

She clutched the sheets tighter around her torso, determined to hide herself from his view. Shame and embarrassment took precedence in her mind, her defenses rising more rapidly than she could ever anticipate. Her stomach felt queasy, her heart hurting. "Don't say it. Whatever you say, Lucas, just don't say you regret it. God, don't make me your mistake."

"You could never be a mistake."

"Hypocrite," she hissed out, slapping away his hands as he reached for her, "Hypocritical bastard. Isn't that what you said to reassure Brooke's insecurities? That I was your mistake?"

"…She told you about that…?"

She choked out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, rubbing it in my face that she had you and I didn't. As if I'd care."

"…did you…?"

"Did I what?"

"Care that she was with me, and not you."

"Lucas…"

"I'm serious, Peyton," he said vehemently, grabbing her hands to pull her toward him. He framed her face with his hands, bringing her eyes to gaze into his own. "Whatever it is you think you read in me, Peyt, it's not what you think. I'm not regretting what we did. I'm regretting that I did this to you. You're one of my closest friends, Peyton, I shouldn't have put you in a position like I did last night…that the fact you cared about me somehow made it some obligation that you give in to me…sleep with me because I wanted it. But Peyton, if you feel something more…something else for me, god, just say it now…please…"

As rapidly as her walls had risen, he had them shrinking back just as quickly, dispersing the barriers around her heart as if they had never existed. Only him, only ever him.

She looked at him, saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the fragile hope just barely veiled there. She reached for his hands, feeling his fingers wrap so trustfully around hers. God, she loved this man.

Therein lay the problem.

Peyton pressed a kiss to each palm, regarding him with a soft smile. "Lucas, you mean the world to me, but…" She sighed, touching her hand to his cheek, smoothing it upward to tangle her fingers in his sandy hair. "Don't be guilty, Luke. I think…I think I need you just as much as you needed me. And it's not wrong to need someone, blondie," she teased lightly, as her fingers sifted through his thick hair, "You taught me that, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," he spoke quietly, his eyes on her, watching her curiously as she scooted closer, and she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, smoothing her cheek over his.

"You're a good guy, Lucas. Keith would be so proud of you," she whispered, combing back his hair against his brow as he rested her head against her. She leaned back in the bed, choosing not to comment as she felt the evident wet of his tears against her skin, and only held him close, silently stroking his hair as his body grew slack and relaxed, his breath evening out once more into the serenity of sleep.

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It was some time in early afternoon, the idea of attending school that day something completely inconceivable in both their minds- or would be, Peyton supposed, had he been awake to voice his opinion- that she fully arose back to the vivid awareness freed from the foggy trappings of drowsiness and sleep. The room was still fairly dimly lit, the golden light of the sun obscured by the drapes drawn over her windowpanes, creating a comforting, shadowy effect to the room.

Lucas had slept rather undisturbed for a majority of the day, the exhaustion generated by his emotional burden finally wearing him down to the point where some reprieve was imperative.

His body was curled around hers, the lean muscle of his torso a comfortable weight as he slumped against her, one arm around her waist, fingers brushing now and again against her hip, her bare thigh.

His head was nestled between her breasts, their legs entangled as she peeked down at him through the lashes of her eyes, smiled softly as his face placid and serene in a rare peace. She was stroking his hair as she watched his sleep, absently humming under her breath when a low, strangled sound breaks through the silence, as much as shock as a sudden downpour of an icy rain. She looks up, and her eyes meet those of the one person she hoped to never see this aspect of her life, this aspect of who she was.

Her father.

Larry's face was drained of all color, etched with a great degree of shock that rendered him speechless, frozen in the doorway of his daughter's bedroom, unable to tear his eyes away, unable to bring himself to move as he found himself faced with a sight that tore away all thoughts of sense and reason that might linger in his mind.

Peyton swallowed hard, moving the sheet to shield what might be exposed of their bodies, adjusting Lucas' place against her so not to wake him, but also to move away from something so deeply intimate, an incredibly wrong sight to present to her father.

"Dad," she whispered plaintively, barely recognizing her own voice with the tentative vulnerability to be found there.

Larry said nothing, but only seemed to regain some semblance of composure, his eyes straying down to the face of his daughter's lover. The face of the young man was painfully recognizable, but even in the powerful anger and disapproval building up inside of him, he could not help but take note of the tight hold Lucas had on Peyton's hand, the lingering tear tracks still glistening against skin too pale to be healthy.

Larry could not be sure, but he thought the kid looked thinner than he remembered, his face more weathered, as if shouldering some incredible burden. The older man looked up to meet the pleading gaze of his daughter, and he stepped back, shaking his head as his duffel bag hit the floor with a dull thud and he hightailed it back down the hallway. The sound of the front door slamming shut reverberated through the walls of the house.

Peyton sighed, falling back against the bed. She felt Lucas shift beside her, his arms reaching out to her. She allowed herself to be encircled in his arms, watched his eyes flutter open to reveal warm, sleep blue eyes. "Peyton."

"Hey, sleephead." She brushed back the disheveled hair falling against his forehead, lightly kiss his forehead, "Sleep well."

"Yeah," he leaned up, slipping his arm around her waist to pull her even closer, nuzzling against her neck, "More than I have in a long time."

"Good to hear. I think you really needed it." She paused, sighed again as she brushed her lips against his temple, down to his cheek as she kissed him softly before breaking their embrace. She gathered the sheets around her, hiding her body from his view as he was met with her back.

His brow furrowed with confusion at her distance, frowning as he recognized the tell-tale signs of her shutting him out. He thought better of it this time, and made no attempt to reach for her. Instead, he only watched her sadly for a moment, rose from the bed and began to gather the clothes littered across the floor.

She leaned her head against a propped elbow, unabashedly watching him as he dressed, unable to help herself from admiring the sleek, muscled silhouette of his body. He felt her eyes and smiled slyly, his eyebrows rising pointedly. She only returned the smile, albeit a little coyly, watching as his back arched slightly as he stepped into his jeans, showing off his ass and strong legs.

He grinned at Peyton as he followed her stare, exaggeratedly striking a strongman pose, and she rolled her eyes, wondering at the ridiculous flirtation. He pounced, however, a moment later, moving into a blurred fury of motion to come crashing into her bed, the mattress squeaking with protest at the sudden intrusion of his weight.

He landed on his stomach, opening one eye to gaze up at her as he reached out, resting a hand at her hip to pull her quite willingly to press flush up against him. It was almost irresistible, really, the way he felt, the way he smelt, the way he touched her, and it was so damn hard to push him away as his lips fell over hers in a heady kiss, his hand slipping beneath the sheet.

She gasped, her breathless moan swallowed by the intensity of his kiss as his hand ghosted over her abdomen and over the apex between her legs, down her inner thighs and the silken skin of her legs. She shivered, nestling closer as he melted her with just a simple touch, a complexity of emotions rising in her heart that were impossible to refute for much longer.

His hand crept upward again, and knowledgeable of his intended destination, she stopped him, grabbing his hand with hers, their fingers entwining to rest above the sheets instead. He favored her with a smile. "No more?" he asked simply.

"No more," she agreed, bumping his chin with the top of her head as she rested it against his chest, closing her eyes as she just took a few moments to savor the feeling of his arms around her. After this day, it would be a very, very long time- possibly forever- before she ever felt his embrace once more.

They lay there in silence, Lucas resting his head against hers, breathing in the sweet, subtle scent of her skin, nuzzling his nose against the softness of her hair. He sighed, contentment a serene expression upon his countenance until he spotted the clock at Peyton's beside, and his face fell. "Shit," he cursed, disentangling himself from their embrace and reluctantly rose to his feet.

Her face was unreadable, as he hurried into his shirt and shoes, strangely attempting to do up his shirt buttons while fasten on his wristwatch. She glanced at the clock and understood, remembering him taking off directly after school every day for the past month for a shit at the grocer's, watching him fumble about humorously for a few moments before she motioned him over.

Peyton fixed the buttons to his shirt in their correct holes, tucking the loose tails of the garment into the waistband of his jeans, combed his disheveled hair back into some semblance of order, and eyed him wryly in inspection.

"I think you pass," she told him softly, and when he bent to kiss her one last time, she turned her face away, his lips landing chastely against her cheek. He pulled back, attempting his best to smother his pained expression, and he straightened, absently raking his hand through his hair in an awkward gesture. She shot him a look of exasperation, and he gave her a fond smile, glad to see a hint of that old spark instead of just the proverbial wall between her and the rest of the world.

"I'll be seeing you, Peyton."

She watched him go, fell back against the bed, and felt for the first time in a long time- not since Ellie's death- like truly crying.

"Yeah, be seeing you," she whispered to the empty room, and she was only met with silence.


	3. Chapter Three: Clearing the Air

**Running to Stand Still**

By Dan'yu

**Chapter Three: Clearing the Air**

It was early afternoon when Larry Sawyer dared to venture back toward his home, pausing for a moment with solemn introspection as he realized his daughter's car was gone from the driveway. As he came in through the front door and called her name experimentally, he was both relieved and unnerved to hear her soft reply.

He found her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter opposite him as he took a seat at the dining table. Her hair, grown out to just past her shoulders, was pulled back, her slender frame garbed in a pair of khaki shorts and a grey hoodie sweatshirt several sizes too big, the long sleeves covering hands wrapped around a ceramic mug. She tried to smile at him, though the gesture was weak and wan. "Hey, Dad."

"Peyton."

An awkward silence stretched out between them, and he found it hard to meet her eyes. She shuffled her feet, turning slightly toward the stove as she set down her mug and stirred something in a pot. "Want some cocoa? It's Mom's old recipe."

Larry could not help but smile. Of course, Anna's recipe for her favorite comfort. "I'd love some."

Peyton returned his smile and the tension seemed to ease between them, though he could not help the double take that came over him as she turned to pour him a cup, he found himself presented with the letters emblazoned across the back of the sweatshirt she wore, _Keith Scott Body Shop. _

She set the steaming cup of cocoa in front of him and then proceeded to take a seat across from him. Larry lifted the mug to his lips, inhaled the sweet scent and let his nostalgia wander. This always did remind him of his wife. He took a tentative sip, pleasantly surprised at the accuracy of his daughter's culinary skills, and he eyed her wryly, the two of them drinking in silence.

"Did Lucas leave that behind?" he asked, nonchalance blanketing any heavier emotions in his voice as he indicated the shirt she wore. Of all the surprises he seemed to be getting that day, the blush that came to his usually candid and frank daughter just about bowled him over.

"No, he lent it to me a while back." Once more, the pink blossomed against her cheeks, completely against her will, as she remembered back to one night, weeks after the hellish blow-outs at Nathan and Haley's wedding, the accident, and her own avoidance of her old friends, minus her occasional hangout with the newlyweds.

She had no idea what had drawn her out that night, to the place that had been their favorite spot on the beach the summer they had spend together. Nor did she know what had prompted him to venture out there that night as well, but she remembered quite vividly the sound of his voice calling out to her as she sat upon the cool sands in quiet thought, listening to the waves breaking against the shore.

The shy, awkward conversation as he took a seat beside her, the knowledge that he wasn't supposed to be there a heavy and tangible burden between them. And then…and then a simple smile from him as he reached out and entwined their hands.

"_I…we can't keep doing this. I miss you, Peyt."_

The way her heart had melted, the softness in his eyes as she shivered in the wind and he covered her small frame in his old hoodie, his arms warm and strong as they wrapped around her and pulled her into his lap, holding her close as they talked the whole night through.

"_I miss you too, Luke."_

Falling asleep in his embrace, waking up the next morning in her own bed, still warm in the borrowed sweatshirt, his scent clinging to the worn material. Going on like nothing at all had happened, never alone with him again until last night, when he came to her in emotional turmoil.

She sighed softly at the memory, burying her nose in the collar of the hoodie, the smell of him still faint though overpowered by the strong odor of detergent. Larry eyed her strangely, his face contorted into a pained expression as he awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Uh…Peyton…"

"Dad…"

They spoke simultaneously and then stopped, staring at each other for a moment before Peyton motioned for him to continue. Larry huffed out a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. For God's sake, why did he suddenly feel so old?

"I'm not going to pretend I'm not ready to shut down into protective father mode, but I'm also not going to pretend that you're not old enough to make your own decisions. At least…at least tell me you were careful?"

She subconsciously winced, flashing back to the urgency of her and Lucas' couplings, and the absence of any sort of protection between them. But she smoothed out her expression, forced a faint smile, and hated herself for the lie that slipped from her lips, "Yeah, Dad, we were careful."

"Okay." Larry grimaced again, seemingly tongue-tied, and he combed his fingers through already disheveled hair, "Alright. Good. Peyton, honey, don't get me wrong, of all the boys to trust you with, Lucas Scott is definitely at the top of the list, but I didn't have a clue you two were together."

She shifted nervously, finding sudden interest in the tabletop. "We're not."

"Right," he said quietly, his voice strained, "Could I ask why not?"

This time, as Peyton winced, it was visible to her father. "Don't hate me, Dad."

"Sweetheart," and he clearly looked confused, reaching cover her hand with his, his palm rough and calloused as her fingers curled around his, gripping desperately for reassurance, "How could I possibly hate you?"

"We're not together…because he's still with someone else."

His lips pursed, his face tightened with something so clearly resembling to disappointment. Understanding blossomed, and he realized what it was. His daughter had become Lucas Scott's infidelity.

"Peyton…"

Her eyes stung with unshed tears but she irritably blinked them away, tearing her hand out of her father's hold as she drew her knees up to her chin in the chair, her body folding in on itself as she stared dejectedly at the floor. "I'm sorry, Dad. Please, don't be mad."

"I'm not mad, Peyton. But to be honest, sweetheart, I have to say I'm disappointed."

"Yeah," she choked out a breathless laugh, no humor evident in the sound, "I have to say, that I'm disappointed in me too."

She rested her head against the top of her knees, hiding her face from view. His face softening, he reached across the table for her hand once more. He gripped her hand gently, marveling at the fact that no matter how adult she seemed with every year she grew older, it was small moments like this, like feeling her hand so small and fragile in his, that reminded him of the little girl she once was.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember when you told me that when I met the right guy, that I should follow my heart and use my head?"

"Yes."

"Easier said than done," she murmured evasively.

His forehead furrowed with confusion as he frowned. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes were distant as she stared out the window, absently tracing a finger along the rim of her mug. "I can follow my heart all I want, and it always leads back to him. Trouble is, it's impossible to use my head around him. All rational thought flies out the proverbial window."

She sighed, hesitantly meeting his eyes as she played with the bracelets at her wrist. "I don't mean to disappoint you, Dad. Honest. I made a mistake, but Luke himself, he could never be the mistake. He was hurting so badly, and he needed me. Things got out of hand between us, but he's important to me, Dad, one of my best friends. I know you don't approve, but I couldn't push him away any more than I could suddenly learn to fly. It's that unthinkable."

Larry stared at her, stunned for a moment. He finally nodded, and the two of them fell into another quiet, sipping their cocoa as the kitchen was bathed in the rich, vermillion glow of the setting sun, the end to a very trying, and very complicated day.


	4. Chapter Four: For Better or Worse

Running to Stand Still

**Running to Stand Still**

By Alaric Nomad

**Chapter Four: For Better or Worse**

Her mind raced in dozens of different directions; invariable, contorted, puzzled thoughts converging at once on her already tired consciousness. It was a fatigue that went more than skin-deep, seeping into her mind and heart, perhaps even her very soul…tired, just so tired of everything…the exhausting drama that seemed to make up every aspect of her life. She was just…tired…

She squeezed her eyes shut, groaning softly and burying her face in her pillow as she found herself unable to dismiss the disconcerting path of her thoughts. No matter how she tried, she could not bring herself to forget the look of pain and longing that had lingered in Lucas's gaze.

_Lucas…_

The sudden knock at her doorframe reverberated through the dead quiet enveloping her room, startling her out of her reflections so that she whipped her head around to find the source of the sound. Said source standing in her doorway proved to be Haley James Scott, and Peyton's first reaction was one of elation at the sight of the only real girlfriend she had ever had beside Brooke.

However, her initial feelings were quickly chased away by a heavier dose of reality as she remembered the distance struck between them for nearly half a year, most especially in the aftermath of Haley and Nathan's wedding, and her and Brooke's final split.

Peyton quickly covered her torn feelings behind a mask of nonchalance as she sat up and faced the other woman. "Well, well," she said with an air of forced lightness, "What do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the great Mrs. Scott?"

Haley visibly flinched at the biting sarcasm so heavily evident in the blonde's tone, but she pursed her lips, squared her shoulders and confidently met Peyton's accusing stare. "Lucas asked me to come."

Peyton smiled bitterly. "What, he's sending you to do his dirty work now?"

Haley merely stared at her for a moment, face expressionless, and Peyton found herself looking away, regretting the bitterness aimed toward the mess between her and Lucas and not the other woman. Haley continued speaking a moment later, "Look, Peyton, I didn't come here to fight with you. Whatever is going on between you two isn't any of my business. He just asked me to return this."

She tossed something toward Peyton, and the curly-haired artist heard a metallic clink as she caught a familiar set of car keys. Her keys. She glanced up quizzically. "My keys?"

"You're asking me? I haven't a clue why he had your car or why he made some measly excuse to not bring it back himself. I'm just doing him a favor."

She turned away, clearly exasperated, and Peyton hesitated for a moment before calling out to her.

"Haley, wait."

Haley faced her once more, pinning Peyton with an oddly knowing stare and Peyton swallowed hard, finding it strangely hard to meet her old friend's eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't take this out on you."

Something in Haley's face softened and she was once more the old Haley- forgiving, eternally forgiving- and she smiled, making a questioning motion with her hand as she indicated the desk chair at the computer. Peyton blinked uncomprehendingly and then realization setting in, she smiled, motioning for her to take a seat. Haley did as prompted.

"He's a good guy for what he's doing, isn't he?" Haley said softly, glancing up at the other.

"Luke?" Peyton asked, and at Haley's nod, she could not help herself from smiling at the very mention of him, "Yeah, he really is."

They sat there for a few minutes in a contemplative silence, Haley's eyes on Peyton full of question but unable to find the right approach. Finally, she sharply exhaled, gathering up the nerve to speak.

"So, do you want to talk about it?"

Peyton internally winced, knowing full well what she was talking about, but she feigned misunderstanding, "What about?"

"Whatever's going on between you and Lucas."

Peyton's fingers delicately curled around the edges of her bedspread, absently tracing along the embroidered hemline. She tilted her head away, her face obscured by a fall of golden blonde curls. Haley recognized the fidgeting gestures as a characteristic Peyton Sawyer lockdown. She may not have been Lucas, somehow always able to break through Peyton's defenses with the greatest of ease, but Haley James Scott was nothing if not equally as stubborn as the woman before her.

"It's nothing," Peyton said finally, her hesitation speaking volumes.

Haley quirked an eyebrow. "What did nothing include that he ended up with your car?"

_Staring at the space in the doorway where he had walked out of the room, lying naked beneath the sheets in her bed and feeling the lingering warmth from where he had been beside her only moments before. Turning her gaze away to stare unseeing at the ceiling, her fingers tracing over a lovebite bruising the skin of her shoulder, she didn't feel his presence back in the room until he cleared his throat and she looked up to meet his sheepish look. _

_He informed her a moment later of his lack of transportation after his impromptu walk through the rain the night before. She still refused to meet his eyes as she tossed him her keys and told him to get out. _

Peyton shrugged nonchalantly. "He walked here yesterday, realized he was late for work, so he borrowed the car."

"Uh huh. And that has nothing to do with the fact that both of you missed school yesterday."

Peyton shifted, sighed, frustrated. "Look, Haley, if you're just going to interrogate me-"

"I'm just trying to be a friend, Peyton."

Peyton snorted. "A friend? After Brooke tossed me to the curb, when she forced everybody to pick sides, you made it clear who you were with. And Lucas…he's having such a hard time, Haley. I was just being a friend to him. Some of us still know what that means."

_Friends…of course, they were just friends. Just friends…as they lay together in the night and his heartbeat was a pounding, audible reverberation within her hearing as she trailed kisses down his chest, his fingers ghosting down her sides to grasp her hips, lifting her to him. He rolled her beneath him, pressing close and he was gasping against her neck, whispering in her ear. _

"_Peyton…"_

Haley closed her eyes as the sting of Peyton's words set in, and though she wished she could, she could not refute the truth of them, no matter how bitter the honesty was. "Peyton…" she sighed.

Her eyes fluttered open once more and their brown hues were full of uncertainty and pain, Peyton suddenly feeling herself hit by a tangible, nostalgic remembrance once more, unable to ever fully dismiss thoughts of the encounter from the two nights before.

"_Lucas?"_

_Her voice was low, barely audible, but he seemed to relax ever so slightly, opening his eyes to look at her. Her breath caught in her throat at the raw, vulnerable emotion evident in their soft blue, the usually vivid hue dulled by the heartache held so poignantly in his gaze._

She swallowed, licking dry lips as she pushed away the memories and any hesitation or uncertainty that clouded her mind, deciding instead to reach out to her friend. Metaphorically and physically as she sat on the edge of the bed nearest to Haley, gently grasping the other girl's hands in her own. "Haley, what's wrong?"

Haley sobbed almost inaudibly, pain-filled brown eyes slick with tears as she turned her vulnerable gaze on Peyton, and the blonde embraced her friend, letting the singer cry into her shoulder as she whispered reassuringly into her ear, gently rubbing her back.

"Hales…tell me what's wrong."

Haley sniffled, wiping at the tear-tracks on her cheeks as she looked up at her companion. "It's Nathan. He's pushing me away, Peyton, I feel it. After everything…Keith, Deb, Cooper…Dan…he's hurting so badly, and he's shutting me out. I'm losing him, Peyton. I don't know what to do…"

Peyton sighed, brushing back some of the long hair clinging to Haley's dampened cheeks. "Hey, we'll figure this out, okay? You're not going to lose him, not if I have anything to do with it."

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She found it almost ironic that as she stepped onto asphalt surface of the Rivercourt that a stab of disappointment still shook her composure as she took in the sight of what her mind and heart whispered was the wrong Scott brother, dark hair instead of blond, the wrong blue eyes that turned from basket to land on her with a contemplative air.

She answered the questions in his gaze with a sarcastically cocked eyebrow, resting one hand on her hip as she regarded him. "I never knew it was like a Scott to run away with his tail between his legs."

Well, if there was something she had always been with Nathan, it was frank and candid.

But on his part, the point-blank remark was not appreciated, for the dark-haired teen bristled at her comment, glaring at her. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and Haley. What are you doing, Nate?"

His jaw tightened and he turned away, tossing a quick jumpshot that landed clean through the basket. "There's something about this that's just so simple. There's nothing complicated about it. I toss the ball, it goes in the net, no questions asked."

Reminded eerily once more by something his brother once said to her, a year before that seemed so long ago, she smiled slightly. "Let me guess? That's just the way it is, right?"

"Yeah."

She was silent for a moment as she watched him throw the ball again, she herself snatching it up as it passed through the net. "Look, Nathan, it hurts I know. I've been there. My mom…my dad…Ellie…it sucks. But you can't shut people out. Take it from the queen of self-torture that it's nothing but destructive."

Nathan smiled. "Tortured artist, forgot about that."

"The one and only," her amused smirk faded as she regarded him seriously once more, "Nathan, she loves you."

"I know, it's not that I want to shut her out…I just…"

"You what?"

The sound of the familiar voice caused them both to whip around for their gazes to land on the approaching form of Haley, Nathan's startled, Peyton's quizzical. Haley shot Peyton an apologetic look. "Sorry, I know you asked me to stay in the car, but I-"

"No, don't worry about," Peyton replied quickly with a shake of her head, "I'll just let you two talk."

She perfected a quick exit, but the nearby couple were too absorbed in each other to notice her presence anyway. Haley took Nathan's hands in her own, her thumbs rubbing over the larger, calloused palms. "Nathan," she pleaded softly, "Talk to me."

Tears in his eyes, that's just what Nathan did. Watching Haley embrace him as he spoke in jumbled, rapid confessions, whispering to him how much she loved him and hearing his vehement reply, Peyton's heart ached.

_Spooned together, warmed by the proximity of the other as they lay side by side, he lazily kissed her shoulder, slipping his arms around her waist to pull her back against his chest. _

"_Peyt?" he mumbled sleepily. _

"_Yeah?"_

"_I love you."_

A whispered love confession in a state of half-slumber, matching her own given while lying in a pool of her own blood. She sighed to herself as she walked to her car, blinking away the threatening sting of tears.

"_If I said I love you right now, would you hold it against me? Because I do, Peyton. But it's okay, because there's this girl. You might know her, her name's Brooke Davis, she's my girlfriend, and I'm completely in love with her."_

How many more platonic love confessions could she take before her heart splintered into a million broken pieces?

"_Peyton…" _

_His gasp of her name, the feeling of him inside her…their heartbeats in sync as their bodies moved in a primordial rhythm as old as time itself. Her nails in his shoulders, his lips against her neck as he moved hard against her and she cried his name, the world spinning completely asunder as she came into completion. _

Slamming the car door shut behind her, she leaned her head against the steering wheel, taking in a shuddering breath that left her body trembling, and finally gave in to her tears.


	5. Chapter Five: As Lovers Go

**Running to Stand Still**

By Alaric Nomad

**Chapter Five: As Lovers Go**

Two weeks following Nathan and Haley's reunion, things at the Sawyer household were peaceful- at least to any outside eyes. Only half a week after returning, Larry shipped out once more on a three week voyage that insured he would be back in time for her high school graduation, and hopefully, make him capable of being home for a majority of the summer.

As grateful as she was for his efforts, Peyton could not help the way the solitude seemed to gnaw at her; between Brooke's ostracizing that seemed to extend to the rest of the cheer squad and their old circle of friends, her own avoidance of Lucas, and Nathan and Haley's need to focus on little more on each other, she found herself utterly isolated from the outside world.

Quiet and eerily still, the house solemnly reminded Peyton of her father's past absences, and her own self-destructive behavior that often included some combination of alcohol and Nathan in vain attempts to drown the pain.

Of course, that particular trail of thoughts was one she quickly thwarted, for those reminders of her not so pretty past inevitably led her to the one who once sought to save her from that same downward spiral, and for a long while, succeeded. And when she fell back into the darkness, it was still him looking out for her, sending her comfort in the form of Jake.

Speaking of Jake…

Staring into the almost reflective surface of the computer screen, Peyton took in the sight of her father's familiarly rugged face, twisted into an even more recognizable expression of parental concern. Hundreds of miles away, Larry Sawyer's wearied face peered through the lens of the webcam connecting him to his only child, sighing resignedly as he finally answered her proposition.

"Are you sure about this, sweetheart? I know I'm not home as much as I should be, but that's a pretty long move to make."

"It's just a thought, Dad. The art school in Savannah is a really good one, and Jake is there, so I wouldn't be completely on my own."

"Jake…" Larry trailed off thoughtfully, absently scratching at his beard, "That would be your ex, right? The one with the little girl of his own?"

Peyton smiled faintly at the thought of the young girl, and nodded. "Yep, that's the one."

Larry made a noncommittal, thoughtful sound, still seeming unconvinced. "Anything else behind your sudden urge to leave Tree Hill? It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Rakeboy, now would it?"

Peyton blanched at the mention of Lucas Scott, furiously shaking her head with a vehement denial ready before her brain could ever process her own thoughts and reaction. So far ingrained to her was the refutation that Lucas Scott was anything but a friend- any indication to the contrary raised an instant panic and denunciation of any feelings beyond the platonic.

"You think I would base a decision like that on a boy?"

"If I thought you were running away from something, perhaps."

His daughter scowled at him, the ferocity of the expression evident even through the webcam. "I can't believe you would even say that…"

Larry lifted his hands in a defensive gesture, smiling at her unabashedly. "I'm your father. I'm allowed to be frank."

"And you wonder where I get it," she murmured with a cross air, still eyeing him irritably.

Larry smiled gently, touching his fingers to the screen. His eyes softened with a tender affection as Peyton did the same, and he was hit by a sudden wish to touch her in person, to take her hand, embrace her, just bring some sort of comfort to her evident ill-ease. Yet he had no way to do any such thing, except with words, and words were doing him no good, for he could already notice the signs of a classic Peyton shut-down. His beautiful, tormented girl…

He sighed, "I'm sorry, honey, that I can't be there to help you make these decisions. I'll be home as soon as I can."

Her face softened and she smiled at him. "I know, Dad, and trust me…I don't mind. You'll be here for graduation and to see me off to school, right? I couldn't ask for anything more."

"Alright, and Peyton?"

"Yeah?"

"I do trust your judgment…just…be careful, alright?"

"Sure thing, Dad."

"Anyway, I-ah! It looks like you have a visitor."

Startled, Peyton whirled around, her heart involuntarily skipping a beat and her stomach clenching as she recognized the form of Lucas in the doorway, eerily similar to the way Haley has seemed, standing in the same spot only weeks before. He smiled sheepishly, holding up a hand in greeting. She scowled at him and turned back to her father's image, reluctant to both end their conversation and to face Lucas.

Larry smiled knowingly, and scratched at his beard growth. "Well, I guess I'll let you go so you two can talk. I'll be home soon as I can, honey."

"Good to know. Hey, Dad, do one thing for me?"

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"Shave off that god-awful beard."

Larry laughed, feigning hurt. "And here I thought it looked debonair. But alright, it's a promise. You behave yourself, Miss Sawyer, you hear me?" He grinned and winked, giving a nod to Lucas over her shoulder.

Peyton rolled her eyes, "Fine. Love you, Dad."

"Love you too. See you soon, honey."

Her lips curled involuntarily into a smile of fond warmth, one that faded as her father's image disappeared from the computer screen and she turned to face the boy standing behind her, replaced by an expression alternating between confusion and irritation. "What are you doing here, Luke?"

Lucas awkwardly shuffled his feet, self-consciously keeping his gaze averted to the floor. In any other circumstance, she would be amused by his almost boyish discomfort, for he seemed to be intently studying his shoes. "You haven't been to school lately. Everything okay?"

"Since when do you care?" It was hard to disguise the bitterness from her voice, no matter how she knew that he was not truly at fault. Inwardly, there was no denial to the way she felt about him, no matter what lies she gave the outside world. She loved him, she hated him, and the fact that he would never return the sentiment was enough to tear her heart apart.

He frowned, lifting his eyes to look at her. "I've always cared about you, Peyton. I thought you knew that."

"Whatever." As he opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off, waving her hand dismissively. "Look, it's nothing. I haven't been feeling well, so I took some time off."

He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, Peyt. I was just worried."

She repeated his sigh, exhaling sharply as she shrugged, turning her chair around to face him fully. "It's fine. I'm sorry too. It's just been a weird couple of weeks."

He nodded, humming thoughtfully before hesitantly continuing, "Listen, speaking of weird..."

"Yeah?"

"It's been weird between us, y'know, since that night. I don't want that for us, Peyt."

She closed her eyes briefly, anything to block out his boyishly hurt expression. She swallowed hard, sighing once more. "Luke…don't…"

His face clouded, pain he could never quite hide, and he approached her slowly, crouching down to her level as he gently took her hands. Her eyes opened and focused on their joined hands, desperate not to meet his. "Don't what? Don't tell you that I'm missing you? Don't tell you that I can't ignore the way you've been here for me through everything? That I can't ignore the things you made me feel that night?"

"Lucas…no," she tried so badly to protest, to stop his vehement response, but her voice sounded weak and wavering even to her own ears. His hands parted from hers to gently touch her face, brushing against her skin as he cupped her cheek. Her heart picked up in anticipation, for she knew the signs of his kiss better than she could recall anything else in that moment.

His lips met hers, and it was the softest, most tentative kiss she could ever imagine, just a ghostly brush of his mouth over hers. And then he leaned his forehead against hers, exhaling softly as she touched her fingers to his cheek, slowly tracing the shape of his lips. His eyes fluttered, his mouth curling into a soft smile as he kissed her fingertips, one that quickly faded as he took in the expression in her gaze.

"So are you scared this time again or do you just hate me that much?" his voice was cynical as he drew back from her, laced with pain and it was all she could do to keep from reaching out and kissing both their insecurities away.

"We're friends, Luke. I don't want to ruin that."

"Right, we're just friends."

"Lucas…"

He stood up abruptly, fretfully raking his fingers through his hair, rubbing a hand over his face. "Last time I checked, Peyton, _just_ _friends_ don't have sex."

"Damn it, Luke! Do you want me to spell it out for you? 'You were amazing, but I don't want anything more?' We've all been through an emotional ringer the last few months, Lucas…just chalk it up to needing to feel something different for a change."

He was quiet for a long moment, and she could practically feel the tension his rigid body was radiating. Her breath caught and she knew she couldn't catch it until he finally spoke. "So it didn't mean anything?"

"No, not like that."

"So after everything we've been through, making love with me means nothing?"

"I'm sorry, Luke."

He paused in the doorway, his heart in his eyes as he glanced at her over his shoulder, and as he whispered back to her in reply, his broken voice was enough to shatter her own. "Yeah, me too."

As he left, she found herself speaking to an empty room for the second time in two weeks, closing her eyes and falling back in the chair as her own lies caught in her throat and churned in her stomach. Ingrained into her mind was a vision of his pain-filled gaze; something she would never be able to dismiss.

"It means everything."


	6. Chapter Six: Everything Changes

Running to Stand Still

**Running to Stand Still**

By Alaric Nomad

**Chapter Six: Everything Changes**

The weeks that followed had a paradoxical effect on Peyton, either dragging along at an agonizingly slow pace or speeding by so fast time became nothing more than a blur. The life she had known before seemed nothing more than a far away dream, one she could not more likely grasp again than touch the stars.

Memory seemed to haunt her.

She would walk through the hallways at school and memory would be haunting her every step. A glimpse of Brooke and she remembered a little brown-eyed girl coming to her room not long after her mother's death, crawling into her bed without a word and holding her tightly throughout the night. She remembered the girl who raced haphazardly up her driveway on their eleventh Christmas, her newly acquired makeup kit in tow as she demanded Peyton try it with her.

She saw the distain in the look thrown her way, the flippant brush-off as brown eyes colder than she could ever remember turned away from her, and memory began to shatter.

A glimpse of Nathan and Haley, and she could remember the naïve but inquisitive best friend of Lucas Scott, standing in the background and seeming to appear whenever Peyton sought much-needed advice. She remembered the girl overwhelmed but smiling as they stayed up all night of perfect cheer moves, the bemused look on her face as Brooke handed her the uniform for the first time.

She remembered a younger Nathan, a freshman who stood before her shy and uncharacteristically uncertain as he asked her to the end-of-the-year party. Laughing and carefree, tawny skin wet from the ocean glistening in the sun as he chased her down the beach, at a time when things were good with them and his father's influence did not quite run so deep.

She remembered Nathan's grief and Haley's tears, and as she caught a glimpse of the couple, she darted away, quick and avoidant to their sight.

Lucas…Lucas who tried to seek her out, must have attempted to spark conversation between them a couple of dozen times, but each time she took avoidance to the maximum level, brushing him off so casually and indifferently they might as well have been strangers, let alone never lovers.

Memory haunted her, and she remembered his smile, his laugh, the feel of his fingers against her skin, his voice whispering in her ear. She watched the hurt gradually grow to anger slowly becoming cold acceptance in his eyes with each brush-off, and she avoided memory all together.

Avoidance became easier than she'd ever expected, for between skipping school and practices, Brooke finally found reason to kick her off the cheer squad all together, and strangely enough Peyton found herself unfazed. That day, nauseated and exhausted, her nerves frayed, she threw her pom-poms in Brooke's smug face, spouted off a few colorful phrases and stormed out of the gym, feeling the eyes of everyone piercing into her back- Nathan and Haley's worried gazes included.

Second period history was the only class she shared with them both, and dead as she felt, she had to give herself credit for at least making it to the halfway point before she found herself racing out of the classroom to meet the porcelain bowls in the girls' bathroom. She did not realize she had been followed until she felt warm hands rest against her shoulders, gently bringing her body back to lean against slender legs.

Peyton's eyes closed with sheer exhaustion, slumping back against the female body behind her as she sighed. Her stomach rolled and she reared forward once more, those same fingers holding back her hair and soothingly rubbing her back, Haley whispering reassuringly into her ear as she emptied her stomach's contents into the toilet bowl.

Queasy and light-headed, she allowed Haley to help her to her feet and guide her out of the stall. As she leaned against the sink, she caught a glimpse of her haggard and pale face reflected in the mirror and she let out a low laugh, sharp and bitter, no hint of mirth to be found in the sound.

The cold water she splashed against her face was a sharp shock to her system, her eyes widening from the sudden chill. Haley wordlessly placed a water bottle and wad of paper towel in her hands and Peyton murmured her thanks, padding at the lingering moisture against her skin, taking a swallow of the water.

"God, I look like crap," she murmured softly, casting a sidelong look in Haley's direction, feeling faint amusement as she watched the other woman purse her lips and hesitate. Peyton smiled lightly, shaking her head to whatever response Haley was attempting to form. "It's alright, Hales, you don't have to lie."

Haley managed to crack a smile then, the strange tension between them dispelling as she laughed, reaching out to draw her friend into an embrace. Peyton leaned into the hug, sighing exhaustedly as Haley rubbed her arms and pressed a motherly kiss to her temple. "Peyton, talk to me. What's going on with you?"

Peyton shook her head, drawing back from the embrace. "It's nothing. Probably just a bug."

"Uh-huh. Just as bug was what you told Lucas three weeks ago. You've missed more school than not in the past month. Have you been to the doctor?"

"Haley, please…if nothing else, don't bring up Luke."

Haley narrowed her eyes in the blonde's direction, her suspicions rising once more as they often did regarding the broody pair, but watching Peyton's expression harden with stubborn distance, she wisely kept silent.

Peyton shook her head once more, starting toward the door. Her eyes warm with concern, Haley caught her arm as she turned away, her brow furrowing with worry. "Peyton, I'm serious. I'm worried about you."

Peyton's mouth curved into a small, derisive smile as she leaned back against the wall, her eyes momentarily closing with sheer exhaustion. "Don't, Hales. Just don't. I'm fine, really. It's nothing for you to worry about."

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"You have a strange ability of getting everybody to worry about you, you know that, Sawyer?"

Sitting outside the school, skipping the next period, Peyton found herself smiling almost involuntarily at the sound of the familiar masculine voice.

No matter what her efforts, there was something about things between her and Nathan Scott that made it almost virtually impossible to completely avoid him. Their relationship had long since settled into something so platonic and almost sibling-like she found it almost unbelievable now to think that they had ever dated.

No matter how she tried to distance herself from everyone, something about Nathan's protective instincts had his hackles rising as he watched the girl, nearly as much as his wife's worry and his big brother's strange behavior directed toward the same blonde-haired teen.

Nathan frowned in the direction of the curly head, forehead creasing with the severity of the expression as Peyton finally answered him, her response oddly flippant. "Let me guess…Haley didn't get the answer she wanted, so she sent you out here to interrogate me, right?"

"You know it's not like that, Sawyer. We're just—"

"Worried about me. I know, I've been getting that a lot lately."

Nathan sighed, rubbing his hand over his face in a tired gesture as he sat beside her on the small bench. "Maybe you're getting it for a reason. What's going on in that crazy head of yours?"

Once more, she smiled almost against her will, rolling her eyes with fond exasperation. "Who exactly is the crazy one here, Scott?"

"I'm pretty sure that title goes to you. But seriously, what's up, Peyton?"

"Nothing."

"'Nothing' is getting pretty redundant."

"Redundant…that's an awful big word for you, isn't it, Nate?"

"HEY!"

And then Peyton laughed, and though his face flushed with indignant anger, Nathan decided to say nothing at all. For now, his pride could take a backseat in favor of seeing his friend smile again.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Peyton rose to her feet and grabbed her back, gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, whispering into his ear that if he was going to be such a worrywart, he should direct it toward his wife. Blinking in confusion for a moment, Nathan could only roll his eyes heavenward with exasperation as Peyton walked away from him.

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"You look like hell, Sawyer."

To say that the sight of Rachel standing in the doorway of her bedroom was the shock of her lifetime had to be the understatement of the century. Nearly as much to say that Peyton was a little confused would be as understating as to say that her and Lucas's relationship was simple and clear-cut as night and day.

Complete bull.

"What do you know about it, Gattina? And how you even know where I live?"

Rachel smiled, obviously amused by the other's otherwise belligerent attitude. "A little birdie told me."

"That little birdie can go to hell. The last time I let you anywhere near me, I drank myself stupid and ended up in Lucas's bed."

"Yeah, good times, huh?" Peyton glared at her, and Rachel held up in her hands defensively. "Sheesh, feisty. At least with that kind of fire we know you're not dead or dying."

"Bite me, Gattina." She was, in an infamous Sawyer bad mood, all blonde curls and venom.

Rachel winced, sighing heavily, the sound heavy with frustration as the young woman ran a hand through her hair. "Look, I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't important. Whatever's going on with you has, as Brooke would put it, the Tutor Wife in distracted fits, so our captain's attention is on her, and our squad can't get anything done. Not to mention, you skipped so many practices that we're short a girl, and well…can you just clue me in to what's up?"

"Not a chance."

"Well, tell you what. Considering you look like something the cat dragged in, I figure you could use some fun. I know this hot club that's pretty loose about checking ids, so what do you say?"

"Can't," came the same indifferent reply as Peyton's attention focused back on the sketch in her lap, turning in the chair she was seated in so her back was facing Rachel. The red-haired girl rolled her eyes.

"And why not?" she inquired as she closed the few paces separating the two of them, glancing down on the nearly finished sketch. The paper was crossed off into three separate sections, the first a scene in a dark room, obviously a night scene, with the shadowed, weeping silhouette of a boy lying upon a bed, his head resting on the lap of a girl. The caption read, 'You can't save everyone.' The second was the same room, one Rachel came to recognize by the outlines as Peyton's room, the same couple entwined on the bed, the girl full enwrapped in the boy's arms, his hand over her heart and his lips close to her ear, parted as if to speak. Once more, the caption read, 'You could never be a mistake.'

The third was shadowed and done with a much more melancholy air than the first two, the same couple, the boy's face an expression of confusion and pain, the girl turned away from him as she cried silent tears. In bold, black letters, it stated, 'It means nothing, it means everything.'

Taken aback, Rachel swallowed hard, barely managing to whisper, "Peyton…"

Peyton whirled around, startled at the other's sudden proximity, and her shocked expression quickly shifted into one of disconcertion and anger as she flipped the sketchpad closed. "You want the truth? So everyone will leave me the hell alone, why I won't go party with you, why I'm so sick, why I had to skip so many practices? Add it up for yourself."

Rachel went silent, paling as the truth dawned on her like a slap on the face, the possibility seeming more surreal and alien than anything she had ever encountered. She blanched, her eyes softening as she looked down at Peyton, the curly-haired blonde doing all she could to avoid her gaze. Rachel licked her lip and exhaled sharply, not completely sure how to proceed. "Are you…are you sure? Have you taken a test or something?"

Peyton shook her head, letting out a low, bitter absent of any sound of mirth or light-hearted quality. "No…God, I'm such a coward, but it's like something in me is so scared to use one of those things. Like the moment I do, it makes all of this real."

"Peyton…you know what you have to do."

"I know. But knowing it doesn't mean it doesn't scare the hell out of me."

Peyton nodded, her fingers skimming over the brochures for Savannah's Art Institute and she wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry as the sheer irony of the situation, as if fate just could not wait to deliver her another blow. So much for Savannah…and Jake…

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Even with all the weeks she had suspected, it didn't make the little lines staring back at her any less frightening or intimidating. Her body trembling as she tried to fight back the sobs fighting to emerge, her hands shook as she dialed a familiar number, her father's familiar voice on the other end of the receiver bringing about her breakdown as she fell into tears.

"Daddy…I need you…"


	7. Chapter Seven: Open Door

Running to Stand Still

**Running to Stand Still**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Seven: Open Door**

Something about hospitals always left her feeling ill-at-ease.

It could have been the time her mother had spent there as she lay dying after the fatal wreck that had stolen her from Peyton's life. It could have been the memory of watching Lucas's life hanging in the balance after the auto accident during their junior year. It could be the few nights she'd spent in the aftermath of the school shooting, memories of Jimmy Edward's fear-stricken face as he shot at her frozen into her memory.

It could have been a combination of all three and so much more, but no matter the origin of the reason, she felt almost nauseous with trepidation as she sat alone in a room at the family clinic- her father's frequent absences had made it hard to keep a steady physician from childhood up.

Florescent lights shined above her head, reflecting obnoxiously off of pristinely white walls, surrounding her in pallid, stifling monotony. She found herself feeling strangely vulnerable as she sat upon the examination table, goosebumps rising against her skin as the thin paper gown she wore left her susceptible to the chill of the room.

She idly swung her legs, the back of her heels tapping against the metallic surface of the step below, providing the only other sound in the room besides the rhythmic ticking of the clock in the corner. After an hour of waiting alone, she was sure she would be driven mad when the door finally clicked open and the doctor stepped inside, lab coat trailing around her feet as she closed the door behind her.

Dr. Borden, a stout, warm woman in her early fifties characterized by a head of steel-gray hair pulled back into a severe bun and a homely face that broke out into a reassuring smile as her eyes left her clipboard and settled on Peyton. Peyton returned the gesture to the best of her ability, though the expression came out wan and weak, inadvertently reflecting her ill-ease.

"Hello, again, Peyton. Sorry to have kept you waiting so long."

"It's fine. I can't exactly make a break for it garbed up in tissue paper."

The wisecrack fell flat of her usual humor, but the dry tone drew a small smile from Dr. Borden as the older women drew up a chair to sit beside her, flipping through her notes. "I have your test results back. Knowing you, I'm sure you'd prefer me to cut to the chase, right?"

"Please." Her throat tightened and Peyton wished she had allowed her overanxious father into the examination room with her, sense of propriety be damned.

"There are no doubts about it, Peyton. You are pregnant." She paused, her expression grave as she glanced back up at the teenager. "You're nearly ten weeks along. It's a good thing you came in when you did."

Ten weeks…oh, the irony of timing…there was no sense in denial.

Ten weeks meant Lucas's Scott's child growing in her womb.

Who was she kidding- there was no other guy, no man or boy that had come into her life, only Luke. It was only ever Lucas.

She tiredly rubbed her hand over her face, listening with a stricken air as she tuned into Dr. Borden going into long detail about her 'options'. She could only stare dejectedly at the door, wishing she was anywhere but there, that her reality was anything but this.

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The ride home from the hospital was a hard one, tension and silence filling the car to the point where Peyton felt like screaming. She glanced warily in her father's direction, watching the tight line of his jaw and the way his fists clenched and unclenched fitfully against the steering wheel.

Peyton took in a shaky breath, daring herself to break through that fragile silence lying between them, "Daddy…"

His fingers twitched against the wheel, his only response to her speaking and her lips pursed, leaning her head against the window in an effort not to have to look at him. "Daddy?"

"Daddy…say something, please. I couldn't stand it for you to hate me now."

"Sweetheart…I could never hate you. Why would you think something like that?"

His voice was tender as ever, echoing through her heart as she kept her eyes on the landscape whizzing past them in a blur of colors and shapes. "I can't get rid of it, Daddy. I could never…not after knowing Ellie, everything about me and her…I could never."

"I know, sweetie. But that's far from your only option, Peyton."

"I know, I know…" she trailed off, uncertain, "…what would you think if I said I wanted to keep it?"

Larry was silent for a long moment, Peyton still not daring to look in his direction. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, fighting to keep his eyes on the road instead of turning them to his little girl in the seat beside him…no, the young woman sitting beside him, his little girl no more. He reached out, draping an arm around her frame- one his mind still struggled to envision swelled with pregnancy, and he drew her close against his side.

His gesture was so close to one she remembered from another source of comfort in all-too different circumstances that she found herself already prepared for that familiar pang in her heart. The moments from a few months before seemed like nothing more than a blur…going to see Ellie…the poignancy of her disappointment…the simple comfort of Lucas wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to him.

Surprisingly, the pain seemed to numb ever so slightly, her hand invariably making its way to rest against her still flat abdomen. Her father spoke, his voice low and soothing, and she felt something in her calm, shift…accept.

"I'd say…if this baby is something you see in your future, then I've gotten a lot older than I thought. Do I look like Grandpa material?"

She managed to crack a small smile, leaning further into his comforting warmth, and the rest of the ride passed in that same companionable silence.

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Still feeling the sting of Peyton's rejection, Lucas spent the intervening weeks- something he would later note to panning out as something close to three months- sticking close to home. He passed his time working as many shifts at the café and the grocer's as he could manage while still keeping up in school, while keeping a close eye on Karen as he could, making sure she followed her obstetrician's directions of taking it easy to a strict T.

He couldn't allow anything remotely close to the horror he'd felt at finding her collapsed on the floor of the storeroom to occur again, especially not as his little sibling grew into his or her sixth month, Karen's stomach swelling in a way that had her constantly complaining to him about sore backs and swollen feet, though neither of them could stop the glow of pride and love that appeared for them both at every reminder of this little piece of Keith left in the world.

Keeping his mother close company, he found himself strangely ostracized from his normal social circles- Haley and Nathan more wrapped up in each other than ever as they struggled to recover from the numerous emotional blows they'd all been dealt in the past few months, Brooke and he on the unspeaking outs since the fight that occurred the night he went to see Peyton…and speaking of Peyton, well…she'd made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing to do with him or whatever feelings he still harbored for her.

He combed his fingers through his hair, laying his palm against his face as he let out a frustrated groan at the very thought of Peyton Sawyer.

"Dirty tables giving you that much hassle, Broody?"

The familiar voice had him stiffening, dropping the rag in his hand back against the counter before him as he turned to her.

"Brooke."

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Time suddenly seemed like a bullet train; whirling by them fast and blurring, graduation creeping up with all the stealth of a nighttime phantom. Peyton found herself reflexively shivering despite the balmy warmth of the approaching North Carolina summer, feeling her father's hands tighten against her shoulders in response to her trembling.

The ceremony had seemed like a mundane reflection of everything they went through day to day all through high school, her mind elsewhere the entire time through the speeches and the marching entourages, the music and the applause. It had taken a light push from Haley- the Scott right behind her in alphabetical order, H before L and N much to Peyton's relief- to remind her of what was expected the moment her name as called, forcing a smile and crossing the stage to accept her diploma with as much grace as she could muster, despite her shaky legs.

Larry had sprung post-ceremony plans just that morning; a party at the café Karen had apparently been planning for weeks. They'd argued forever, Peyton unable to fight her father's firm assistance that both of them attend.

The sudden rolling in her stomach having nothing to do with the morning sickness she'd only recently begun to recover from, Peyton tightly grasped for the reassuring hold of her father's hand, ignoring his bewildered expression as they stepped through the door to the café, the familiar welcoming chime sounding more to the blonde like a tolling death bell.


	8. Chapter Eight: Conversations

**Running to Stand Still**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Eight: Conversations**

She'd never been more uncomfortable in her life.

The mood was jovial, lighthearted in a strange irony to the tension and distance that had been between the group for the past few months following Haley and Nathan's disastrous wedding day. She stood uncomfortably to the side, watching uneasily as her friends' searched the crowds for her and Brooke, Nathan and Haley homed in on her, Brooke dragging a reluctant Lucas with them. Peyton frowned as she noticed their joined hands.

So much for being invisible.

"Hey, Sawyer," Nathan was the only one that seemed comfortable in her presence, giving her a smile and a hug, "We're graduated. Can you believe it? How crazy is that?"

"Pretty crazy," Peyton's gaze strayed to Haley at her husband's side, looking strangely knowing as she sensed the odd, underlying tension between Lucas, Brooke and Peyton. Then again, the young Mrs. James-Scott thought to herself, when was there not tension between those three?

"Hey, Miss Valedictorian, your speech was awesome. Great job."

Haley forced a smile. "Thanks, Peyton."

Lucas and Peyton's eyes met a moment later when he finally stopped avoiding look at her, and time stopped for them both. Lucas swallowed hard, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. Heat spiked through him, a strange tingling flooding through each and every one of his limbs. It was like electricity in the air, potent and surreal. Looking into those incredibly green eyes, he knew Peyton felt the same effect. She was the first to snap out of it, looking away and inevitably focusing on Brooke in hopes of a distraction.

Brooke gave her a nervous grin, unsure how Peyton would respond. "Hey, P. Sawyer. We figured that after making it through two crazy years, it's only fitting we celebrate together. And I know just the way to celebrate," having all their attention, she opened her purse and gave them a glimpse of a small flask, "I figure a little won't hurt anything."

Nathan grinned. "Brooke Davis, rebel without a cause. I'm in."

He looked over at his wife inquisitively and she shrugged. "Why not?"

Brooke turned to the man at her side. "Lucas?"

Tearing his eyes away from Peyton, Luke regarded Brooke bemusedly. "Huh? Oh, yeah, whatever."

"Excellent," Brooke affirmed and she and Nathan began to pass around cups of Karen's specialty punch, slipping in a little liquid delight with each glass. They formed a ring so not to catch the adults' attention and when they came to Peyton, the blonde held up her hand with a shake of her head. "No, none for me."

Nathan's brows arched, "You serious? Who are you, and what have you done with Peyton Sawyer?"

Peyton sighed, "Guys, there's something I have to tell you." A beat. "I'm pregnant."

And jaws began to drop.

--

How he'd managed to corner her, she had no idea.

She'd gone into a short explanation of the circumstances- twisting the facts around here and there. She had told she was six weeks along (lucky her, she still wasn't showing much at twelve), and she didn't really want to discuss the father. She'd implied he had been a one night stand at a bad point for her and while it earned her a mixture of sympathetic, pitying, judgmental and jealous (Lucas) looks, it stopped the questions. Apparently, though, it didn't work to thwart Lucas. If nothing else, the boy was persistent.

"We don't have to talk about any of it…us or what you told us. Just talk to me for a while please."

"Luke…"

"Please, Peyton…" his voice was low, close to pleading, "Haley aside, you're one of the best friend I have ever had. I want that back, even if it's just for today."

She hesitated, staring into eyes so dark with melancholy, those beautiful blue eyes capable of baring her soul, to both condemn and redeem her. And as usual, she caved in. "Alright."

He gave her a boyish grin and plopped down in the seat beside her. Peyton bit her lip, regarding him cautiously. "How's your mom?"

"She's doing alright. She's been pretty irked with me lately, though. She says I'm hovering too much."

She laughed softly. She could definitely see him. "Somehow, I can't blame her."

He frowned. "I can't be concerned? I don't want to see a repeat of a couple months ago."

"Luke, calm down. That's not what I meant. What I'm saying is she probably understands you're worried, but you can't smother her. And you've got a lot going on yourself. You're not Superman, Scott. You can't be everywhere at once."

He tensed and she froze, realizing what she had said- repeating reassurances she had given him on the infamous night. Lucas looked up at her, attempting to rest a hand upon her shoulder, but when she flinched, he let his hand fall away. "Peyt?"

She shook her head, working to change the topic. "What are you going to do next? Did you choose your school?" She'd been so out of the loop lately, she suddenly realized she had no idea what any of her friends planned to do post-graduation.

"I'm not going. Not yet. I'm gonna take a year off to stay help Mom."

Her heart melted. She couldn't help it. "That's sweet of you."

He smiled. "Gotta do what your heart tells you."

Funny- the last time she had fallen her heart, she had lost her best friend and then proceeded to sleep with her boyfriend. "Speaking of hearts, are you and Brooke back together?"

"Not quite," he watched her face carefully in anticipation for her reaction, "We talked, but I told her I needed time."

Her heart tightened but she kept her expression neutral. "But you worked things out?"

"A lot of it. We talked about Dan and the baby. There's still more."

She studied him, brow furrowed with ponderings he couldn't hope to understand. That hurt him in some inexplicable way. He had always prided himself on being able to read Peyton. "Communication," she said finally, "That's the weak point between you two. You don't talk enough about the important stuff."

Unlike the two of us, she added silently.

He nodded. "I know."

"Just think it through this time, Luke. We're not kids anymore."

He fell quiet for a moment, his eyes settling on her stomach. "No…we're not." He reached out, taking her hand and she allowed the contact. It was like electricity, a wonderful sensuality he had felt every time since the day they had first touched. He ran his thumb across the back of her hand, loving the feel of her soft palm resting in his, so vastly different from the rough, calloused texture of his own. Her slender fingers wrapped around his, giving them a gentle squeeze and he gave her a soft smile.

She swallowed, opening her mouth to speak when they were suddenly approached by Brooke, who met their questioning gazes apprehensively. Peyton sought to drop his hand, but Lucas held on. "Peyton, can we talk?" she gave Lucas a pointed look, "Alone?"

"That's my cue," Luke said as he jumped up to his feet. He kissed Peyton's hand before placing it back in her lap. "I'll talk to you ladies later."

Brooke shook her head with an air of fond exasperation. "That's Luke for you, turning on the charm no matter the situation." She looked back at the other woman and with Lucas's exit; awkwardness fell between the two former friends.

Peyton warily watched her companion, defensively wrapping her arms around herself. "What do you want, Brooke?"

Brooke took the seat Lucas had vacated, sighing softly as she turned to face Peyton. "I wanted to apologize. I overreacted."

"That's an understatement," was her grumbled reply.

Brooke agreed but she held up her hand for silence, wanting to get it all out before she lost her nerve. "No, let me finish. I overreacted, so badly. I've always been so insecure when it comes to Lucas, I know that and after what happened last year…" she shook her head, as if to dispel the thoughts, "I should have trusted you, and him. You were only trying to give me the truth this time. I know it might not mean much, but I am so sorry."

Peyton stared at her expressionlessly, turning her face away to hide the hurt she'd fought so hard to bury over the past four months. "I was just being honest, Brooke. I'm sorry if it hurt you, but I did what I thought was right. Do you just expect me to forgive you like nothing happened?"

"No," Brooke replied firmly, "I don't," she gave Peyton a sad smile, "I just want you to know I'm here if you want to talk. I remember…each time Luke and I had pregnancy scare, I was scared out of my mind. I know what it's like to feel alone and scared."

"Thank you, Brooke."

Brooke smiled. "Don't mention it, Blondie. You've been the best friend I ever had. That doesn't just go away overnight."

Peyton blinked away tears pricking at her eyes. Damn hormones. Brooke's face softened and she pulled her friend into a hug, an embrace Peyton fell into gratefully. "Shh, P. Sawyer, it's going to be okay."

The curly-haired blonde sniffled. "Is it?"

"Yeah, it will be." Brooke pressed a kiss to the temple of the woman in her arms. "You gotta promise me now, that you're going to call me when you get to where you're going. I want constant updates. I want to hear every little thing, you hear me?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Peyton smiled, wiping at her eyes as she pulled away. The brunette returned the smile, both women visibly more at ease as she stood, holding out her hand to Peyton. Peyton took her hand and Brooke gave her a wink, "C'mon, let's make this night count."

Peyton nodded, allowing her to be led back to the festivities.

--

She was truly, honestly enjoying herself, having finger-foods and various snacks as she caught up in conversation with her father and Karen. She was good-naturedly teased about her increased appetite and eating for two, listened carefully and nodded along while her on-again, off-again lover's mother (something that had her a bit uncomfortable as she realized they were discussing a baby that was the woman's grandchild, without her knowledge) advised her on what to expect over the next few months of her pregnancy.

Her good mood began to dwindle, however, when she felt a hand placed on her arm, gently cupping her elbow, and a familiar voice broke into the conversation, "Peyton? Can I talk to you?"

She sighed, resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It seemed everyone had something to say to her today. She delayed looking directly at him as she watched Karen and her father for their reactions. Karen looked curious while Larry was apprehensive. As Peyton locked eyes with him, there was an obvious question in them, as well as a need for reassurance. When Larry nodded slowly, Peyton turned her head to look to Lucas, not able to refuse once she met those inquiring blue eyes.

"Sure, Luke."

Her apprehension continued to grow as he led her away to a secluded area, pulling her out of view from any others to see him. The look in his eyes was dark and penetrating, his gaze so intense she felt naked before him, completely stripped of her defenses. She squirmed uncomfortably. "Luke, what is this about?"

He licked his lips and decided to get straight to the point, subtlety be damned. "I'm going to just ask this once, Peyt, and I need a honest answer. Is there any chance this baby is mine?"

Peyton frowned at his wording. "Honestly, I think this baby is _mine_."

Lucas huffed out a breath, closed his eyes and counted to ten. He wouldn't get angry with her, knowing Peyton as well as he did, but fear and anticipation at what her answer would be made it rather difficult to remain calm. "I mean," he said through clenched teeth, "Am I the father?"

In that moment, Peyton Sawyer did the hardest thing she had ever set out to do: lie to Lucas Scott well enough for him to believe her. "No. I told you already."

"You're sure?"

She gave him a flat-eyed stare and Lucas forced a smile. "Right, the timing's wrong." The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable but she did her best not to notice, attempting to turn away. He, however, caught her arm, whirling her around to face him. He stared into her eyes, the look in his own almost fevered in its heat. When he leaned close, she thought he meant to kiss her but instead, brushed his lips against her forehead.

"Come to me tonight." Startled by the request, she tried to pull away, but Lucas held her fast, resting his forehead against hers. "Wait. You don't have to say anything now, but whatever you decide…I'll leave my door unlocked." He kissed her brow once more, and left her be.

Peyton groaned, letting her head fall back against the wall behind her. It never failed- Lucas Scott always managed to make her life a hundred times more complicated than it should be.


	9. Chapter Nine: Consummation

Running to Stand Still

**Running to Stand Still**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Nine: Consummation**

"You okay, darlin'?"

In any other circumstance, Peyton would have been mortified to be found in the state she was in, but knowing it was Whitey Durham speaking from behind her, she could not bring herself to be embarrassed. She wiped away her tears, turning her head to face him. "Coach Durham."

"If that diploma you got today means anything, I think you're grown up enough now to call me Whitey."

"Alright then. Whitey."

Whitey came to sit beside her. "Here to say goodbye to your mama before you go?"

Peyton sniffled, looking out over the cemetery they sat in the middle of. "Something like that. What about you? Are you here to see Camilla?"

"Actually, I'm here looking for you."

She looked at him quizzically. "Me? Why?"

"I saw how you were at the party earlier, especially after that boy managed to corner you. I don't know what he said to make you so upset, but just say the word and I'll beat some sense into him. A firm kick to the behind might get him to pull his head out of his ass."

Peyton laughed softly. "Thank you, but no. You don't have to. It's not really him…well, it is him, but it's not his fault. Okay, it is his fault, but he didn't do anything wrong. If anything, I'm the one pushing him away," she sighed, giving him a helpless look, "Did that make any sense?"

He smiled. "None whatsoever. But I think I got the gist of it." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Whatever it is, darlin', you need to know, it's going to be okay." He squeezed her shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

Her defenses began to slip against her will as she leaned into the circle of his arm, into the comfort of him, and without presumption, they collapsed in one each other.

When the tears started to fall, they fell like rain, and it felt almost impossible to stop. Perhaps then, she would have welcomed the rain, for then the spring shower could obscure the tears she cried and hide her weakness from the world. But no, instead the spring celebrated its presence with the teasing scents of the approaching summer, an inevitable reminder of that she would soon have to leave _him_. The air warmed and took on a taste of temperate spice, announcing it was time to leave childhood behind. Adulthood wasn't going to leave them alone- it was time to grow up, and move on.

Calloused fingers wiped away her tears, strong arms wrapped around her, sheltered her from the rest of the world as he whispered reassurances into her ear, not to be ashamed to release herself from the pain of her first broken heart. He was strong, and warm, and there, solid as stone but gentle as the wind.

He held her close, and protected her from the world. She thought of all the times he had been there, not just for her, but for the others of the inner circle she considered more family than friends. And suddenly, she felt like crying all over again- not from upset this time, but from pure gratitude.

To him, she would always be grateful. For showing her what a father really was.

"Hey, Whitey?"

"Yes, darlin'?"

"What's your full name?"

"Brian Robert Durham. But don't tell anyone I told you that."

Peyton smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. "It'll be our secret."

--

"You're here."

His voice was tinged with awe, resounding from his place sprawled out on his bed, laptop in hand. She stood at the front of the bed, having come in quietly and catching his attention with the soft click of the door closing behind her as she entered. He watched her cautiously, for there was little to read in her blank expression. He slowly sat up, as if frightened that if he startled her, she would turn right back around and bolt out the door.

Knowing Peyton, it was highly likely.

"I suppose I am," she softly responded and she began to approach him with slow, careful steps. She kept her eyes on his with each passing moment and Lucas in turn could not bring himself to tear away his gaze away. She came to a stop beside him, still looking down at him with that same indecipherable expression. He opened his mouth to speak but she placed a finger over his lips, shaking her head.

"No. I'm not here to talk."

His eyes widened in understanding and he could only nod, too dumbfounded to do much else. Her thumb proceeded to brush over his lips, outlining the full, sensual shape of them. She raised her other hand to his face and began to trace his beloved features. Her touch was light as a father, fingers brushing up the angled line of his jaw, the sculpted shape of his cheekbones, the poise of his nose. They traveled upward to the slight dip of his temples, the arch of his eyebrows, smoothing over a forehead furrowed with bewilderment, striving to soothe away the lines of thought. "Luke," she whispered, "Stop thinking so much."

There wasn't much else eh could do but obey as she repeated her ministrations, lips joining in as they feathered over everywhere her fingers touched. A shiver ran down his spine, his heartbeat began to quicken and he didn't have time to contemplate as all thought flew out the proverbial window. Hands and lips suddenly left him, earning a disappointed groan from him, only to have his reaction do a complete turnabout as she climbed onto the bed, settling herself in his lap.

Her lips found his and he responded eagerly, though he kept the kiss light, little more than a peck as he pulled back, feathering soft, chaste kisses against her mouth again and again. Peyton let out a contented sigh, resting her hands against his chest and Lucas wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She shifted against him, pressing her mouth more firmly against his. He responded to the unspoken invitation, moving to deepen the kiss, gently pushing past her lips as she opened to him. A spike of pure desire coursed through him and Lucas was certain he had never tasted anything as sweet as her.

A low rumble rose up in his throat and Peyton whimpered with the sudden fervor to his kiss, moving to straddle him with the urge to be even closer. She linked her arms around his neck, burying her hands in his hair as he came close to devouring her. She moaned and there wasn't much more he could take. He wrapped his hands around her thighs, sliding her way from him and gently tossed her back against the bed. The moment her back hit the mattress, he was on her again.

The weight of him was a welcome addition, strong, solid and warm, delicious in the firm muscle pressing down on her. He broke the kiss, giving her a soft smile as he slid down her body, coming to rest at her feet. His hands were gentle and confident as they unlaced one shoe, and then another, giving the same treatment to her socks. He kissed the instep of each of her feet before he leaned back over her, sliding his up her denim-covered legs.

He looked up and their eyes met, Lucas seeking silent permission as his hands hovered above her pants' button. His fingers circled the snap, thumb brushing against the slim strip of flesh exposed by her shirt riding up when she breathed in deeply. She nodded and he unfastened the jeans, gently tugging them down. He followed their path as he pulled them off, tossing them away to a careless location.

He started back at her feet, ghosting kisses along her heels and ankles, making his way up her right leg. He brushed his cheek up her thigh, his stubble scratching against her skin, and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses up to the hem of her underwear. He hovered over the place she already ached to have him, but instead, he turned his head, lightly nibbling on her hipbone.

He gave her other leg the same attentions, coming back to her hips. He slid up her shirt, pressing his lips to her stomach. He feathered kisses all along the exposed skin, tracing his tongue along her navel. Peyton gasped, arching against his mouth as he bit down, pushing her shirt up further, eager to find more silken flesh. Urgent for the same thing, she sat up, raising her arms for him to pull the shirt over her head, casting it aside. Fingers shaking a bit, he unclipped her bra and looked up at her, taking assurance at the soft smile she gave him. He lowered his head, pressing a kiss between her breasts and she laid back, Lucas shifting his weight onto knees spread out on either side of them.

He took the moment to study her- really see her. His expression was one of befuddled awe as he took in the sight of her. His gaze trailed over her, taking in the changes her body had underwent with her impending pregnancy. Her hips were wider, her breasts fuller, the little bump that was her baby prominent against her belly. Honestly, he had never seen her more breathtaking. She was so beautiful…the kind of beauty that could have him on his knees with reverence. God help him, if she'd let him, he would spend the rest of his life worshipping at the temple of Peyton.

He skimmed his hands upward to cup her breasts, lowering his mouth to them. Lips, hands, teeth and tongue, trailing down her body, and after he pushed her panties aside, he found the centre of her desire. He tasted, touched, caressed- fueling that profound ache residing between her legs. Peyton clutched at his head as she arched into his mouth, seeking more of his touch, screaming his name, "Lucas. Oh, God, Luke!"

She fell back against the bed, her body still shaking with the aftershocks, skin beaded with sweat and breast heaving as she struggled for air. His was a heavy weight against her legs, absentmindedly caressing her sides, eyes closed as his head was pillowed against her abdomen. She watched him resting there so peacefully, waiting for her to come down from her high and join the world of the more coherent. As her body calmed, she ran a hand through his hair, pressing a kiss to his brow. He looked up at her and mumbled, "You okay?"

"Mmm…better than okay." She gave him a languid smile, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she urged him upward. Lucas obeyed, covering his body with hers and she kissed him gently. He murmured with content, leaning forward to seek a kiss once more when she pulled away from him. She tugged at his shirt. "You're overdressed."

He grinned. "Let's do something about that, then."

He hovered above her, watching as she undid his buttons one by one, pressing kisses to his chest and stomach as she went. His wife-beater followed, and then her hands found his belt, undoing his buckle with quick efficiency. His jeans were strewn to the floor and they came together once more.

Transfixed and aroused beyond compare by the look in her eyes, Lucas submitted as she pulled him to her, falling into her as he let himself be hauled to her, his mouth meeting her, immediately seeking access to the deep recesses of her warmth.

He cupped her jaw, had her trembling with deep, bone-melting kisses that drew groans from them both, his hands took on a life of their own, sliding down her sides, teasing the soft skin of her thighs. Peyton parted her legs just so, cradling him against the apex of her body and Lucas moaned, rocking harder into her. His fingers swept teasingly between her legs, leaving her disappointed as he moved to mold his palms over the generous swell of her breasts. He was met in appreciation with Peyton's airy sounds of approval, her hands shaking as they clutched at his hair, pulling hard- telling him to get on with the show.

She could feel him, pressing into her stomach- hard, wanting and aching. She reached between them, stroking her fingers down the silken length of him. He bucked against her hand, swearing gutturally under his breath, "Jesus."

She pressed a kiss to his neck, sinking her teeth into the tense flesh. He grunted, his Adam's apple flexing as he swallowed hard. "You've teased too long, Lucas. Need you, now."

"Happy to be of service," he huskily replied, nipping at her ear as they settled themselves, his eyes fluttering closed as he pressed into her, sinking into the wet warmth of her. She shifted her hips against his, and Lucas moved with her, withdrawing and thrusting back in…carefully watching her face for her reaction, every cautious of both her comfort and the little life growing inside her.

Peyton relaxed beneath her with a sigh of his name and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He took it slow, gentle and careful as he thrust. Their eyes locked as they moved, the welcome feeling of their joining fading into one of delicious friction. He groaned, throwing back his head as he was enveloped again and again within a tight, hot heat. She spread her legs further and hooked them around his hips, urging him deeper. "Lucas…I need…"

"I know, sweetheart. I know." As much as he wanted to take this slow, savor every moment of making love to her, every part of him in that moment was wired to give what she needed. He reveled in the whimpers and moans he invoked, catching her mouth in a hungry kiss as he picked up speed. "Incredible. God, Peyton, I've missed you."

He pumped into her with hard, steady strokes, met with her moan of approval as she raked her nails down his back, urging him to give her more. "Luke…!"

He released a throaty groan as he came hard and abruptly. Peyton followed him almost immediately and as she convulsed around him, screaming his name, he rode out the last vestiges of his climax, his very blood on fire as the pleasure swallowed him whole. He collapsed next to her and she cradled his head against her breast, combing her fingers through sweat-soaked hair. Their eyes met and neither smiled nor spoke, just looked at one another.

She ran a hand down his cheek and he pressed a kiss to her collarbone before he pulled away, sliding down to her hip level. She watched as he hovered over her abdomen, his face clouded over with an awed, befuddled sort of wonderment. He traced his fingers over the little bump, tracing the pad of thumb around her navel. He lowered his head, resting his cheek against her stomach, closed his eyes and just lay there- listening, breathing, feeling.

Peyton squeezed her eyes closed, fighting the tears pricking her eyes and she stroked his hair, letting him have his moment. Neither was sure how much time passed, but when he was done, he rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around her. She nestled against him, resting her head against his chest. They did not say a word and she watched him lay his head back, eyes closing with the exhaustion of the day. She gently stroked his face as his breath slowed and deepened, body growing slack and peaceful with the onslaught of sleep.

It should have been harder to leave him, but really, it was easier than she would have thought. Her heart clenched painfully but she somehow managed not to freeze up as she pulled away from his body and rose to her feet. She gathered her clothes, dressed, gave his sleeping form one last look and left.

She was gone from Tree Hill by the next morning.


	10. Chapter Ten: Changes

**Running to Stand Still**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Ten: Changes**

_Two years later:_

Heavens opened above them, unleashing endless flurries of snow to blanket their mortal realm in white; continuous seas of white beneath skies resembling a patchwork quilt, a random pattern of blues and grays, dark shadows of winter clouds or bright patches of clear, sunlit cerulean. Beneath the occasional and cherished bursts of sunlight, the air remained crisp and cold, the sharp bite of winter not easily driven away.

Through a set of wide paned, twin windows two floors above the ground, a pair of emerald eyes stared out over the landscape, their brilliant fire faint and distant as their owner became victim to memories and ghosts of the past.

In the reflective silence that enveloped the dayroom, Peyton Sawyer could not help herself as her mind distanced itself, lost in memories of a life long since left behind, familiar and loving faces she remembered with all the clarity of yesterday. In the silence, the ghosts of her memory took physical, tangible presence, so sure she could feel the one she had left behind.

The quiet whisper of her name, the familiar voice colored by affection and tenderness, and the teasing lilt she knew so well. The phantom weight of hands on her, gently caressing, causing in her emotions she had never realized possible for her to feel. The warmth of a body beside her, strong arms holding and rocking her trembling body, protecting and sheltering her from anything and everything.

"Peyton? You okay?"

Peyton turned her head to face the woman standing in the doorway behind her, leaning her weight against the frame and watching the younger woman curiously. The curly-haired girl smiled. "I'm fine, Aly. I'm just watching the snow fall."

"You're thinking too deeply again, honey. I can see the memories in your eyes. They're so alive there it's almost as if I could live them myself. Is it really that hard to let go of the past?"

If there was one thing Peyton was grateful, it was the support and company of Aly Harp. Aly really was a lot like her older sister, though a decade younger- blonde and pretty, with a wry intuition and an artist's perspective on the world. Peyton had tentatively been in contact with her aunt after Ellie's passing, and it was to Aly she had gone after the mess in Tree Hill.

She had spent the last two years in Raleigh where Aly ran a popular nightclub with her boyfriend, Connor Wright. Over the years, Peyton had transitioned from bartending to managing the club. She made a good living, forged friendships not only with Aly and Connor, but the other employees and regulars, and found a family in her aunt and honorary uncle.

It was a decent life. She tried desperately to forget the perpetual feeling that something was missing.

She turned to Aly, trying her best to reassure her. "It's nothing, really. You don't have to worry."

Aly sighed, coming into the room to sit beside her niece. "Peyton, it scares me to see you like this. You seem so deep in the past, as if any moment you'll just drift away," she placed a hand on her shoulder, "I'm just afraid to lose you. We all are."

Peyton's eyes closed wearily, placing a hand over her aunt's. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I just want to know you're okay."

"I thought…I thought it would get easier with time," she sighed. "But maybe it's time to leave the past where it is. The future's what matters."

Aly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her hair. "That's the spirit, sweetie."

They were interrupted by a sudden cacophony of whimpering, discontented noises and both women turned to face the source of the sounds. Peyton crossed the room to the playpen in the corner, watching the little boy inside reach up to draw himself up to his feet. He gurgled at the sight of her, holding out his arms to her, "Up."

She picked the child up, "Hey, baby. Sleep well?"

"Ya," he gave her a happy, innocent grin and she cradled him at her hip. He wiggled in her hug, waving a hand toward the window. "'no. 'no!!"

"Yeah, baby. It's snow. Want to see?"

"See, see!! See 'no!!"

Aly was laughing softly at their interactions and Peyton gave her a smile, obediently carrying the toddler to the window to give him a clearer view of the snowfall.

Through the crystal panes of the windows letting teasing beams of amber sunlight fall into the room, they could see the shoreline below them, watch the glass cloud from the cold and let him trace his fingers along the cold surface, idly drawing random patterns typical of his boyhood. She fondly watched his ministrations, dropping a kiss to his head with a soft smile.

Winter in Maine really was beautiful. Between the snow and the water, it was unlike anything she had ever seen during her years in North Carolina. This vacation had been just what she (they, really) needed. She filled her days with painting the ever-changing horizons, walking along the frozen shorelines, and of course, spending her time- mostly playing in the snow- with her fifteen-month-old son.

He was the pride and joy of her life. These days, her world revolved around her precious child. For her, one life had ended, and another had begun, with Bry's first breath.

He snuggled against the crook of her neck, resting his head against her shoulder as he stared, entranced, out at the colorless landscape. She quietly studied her son. He was small, but healthy, his pallor flushed with hearty color. He seemed so tiny, fragile, but he was a beautiful child, the delicacy of his features echoing of his mother's influence, but from there on the resemblance to another was unmistakable.

Lucas Brian Robert Sawyer. The boy was so much like the sire he was named for, from the shape of his nose and mouth (the same odd-turned nose, that same full, sensual mouth) the slope of his eyes, the strong set of his jaw and cheekbones. There was a thick thatch of dusty-brown hair dotting his head, a shy, innocent smile on those familiar lips, those same ever-changing eyes (never able to decide what shade they should be- light or dark, blue or gray) holding the same gentle light.

There were some things she could never escape. Lucas Scott's memory was one of them.

--

She was awoken that night by a phone call, a shrill beeping coming from the cell on her bedside table. Spotting the time on the clock- three a.m.- she cursed under her breath, picking it up before the ringing would carry over to the crib in the corner "Hello?"

/Hi, honey./

"Daddy? What on earth are you doing calling me so late?"

/What time is it there? Sorry, honey. I'm docked in New Zealand . I didn't think about the time difference./

She sighed. "It's alright. I was just worried it would be too loud."

/Okay. Sweetheart, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice./

She smiled. "The same to you, but as much as I love talking to you, Daddy, I know this must be costing you a fortune. Is there a reason you called?"

/As a matter of fact, yes. I wanted to talk to you about Christmas./

"I thought we went over this already. I'm spending the holiday in Maine with Aly and Connor."

/And I'd like to see you./

"Why don't you come up here? You came down to Raleigh the last couple of years."

/And I loved seeing you. But I think you ought to come down to Tree Hill./

Peyton tensed, sucking in a startled breath. "Daddy, no."

/You can't avoid it forever, Peyton. It's your home./

"No. My home's in Raleigh."

/Peyton…please. I want to see you, baby. I want to spend Christmas with you. But I don't have time to come up there./

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a shaky breath. "Let me think about it."

_"So what's your biggest fear?"_

_Lucas crooked open one eye to watch the girl leaning over him, smiling down at him from where he was lounging on the floor. He reached up, brushing his fingers against her cheek as he gazed at her thoughtfully, "Dunno. Spiders?"_

_"Funny," she teased dryly, playfully pinching his cheek, "But seriously, what is it?"_

_"Honestly?"_

_Watching his face fade into a shuttered expression, Peyton frowned, reaching down to smooth his hair back against his forehead, "Well, yeah. You can tell me anything, Luke. We're friends, right?"_

_"Yeah, we are," his face grew solemn as he climbed to his feet, offering her a hand to do the same, "Come on. We should go to my room for this. If my mom or Keith finds out you're here, they'll tan my hide."_

_"Where'd you hear that phrase?"_

_"Whitey."_

_Peyton giggled as she imagined Whitey in all his Southern-boy bluster coming down a flustered Lucas. She'd seen enough at their practices. Following him, she enlaced her fingers through his as he led her to his bedroom. Amusedly clearing a few dirty t-shirts off the bed to take a seat, she looked up curiously at her companion, "So what's this all about, Luke?"_

_"You remember what your question was?"_

_"Yeah. What's your greatest fear?"_

_He gave a weak smile, rubbing at the back of his neck, "My greatest fear? That I end up like Dan."_

_"Luke…"_

_"I'm serious. So," he kneeled down beside her, resting his hands against the mattress on either side of her, "What if a couple years down the road, I let my HCM get to me. What if I end up bitter about not being able to play basketball? What if I end up like him?" His lips pursed into a frown, his forehead furrowing. "What about when I have kids? What if I'm as bad as him?"_

_"Lucas," she smiled softly, reaching over to take his hands, rubbing her thumbs over the centers of his palms, "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You're ten times the man he is. You're not the type to let your downs get the best of you. If anything, you constantly rise above them." She gently kissed his hands. "And one day, you're going to make an amazing father."_

_He grinned shyly. "You really think so."_

_She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. "I know so."_


	11. Chapter Eleven: Reconnection

**Running to Stand Still**

By Alaricnomad

**Chapter Eleven: Reconnection**

A/N: So an idea suddenly came to me as I was writing this chapter and I just had to do it. So, I went back and twicked Chapter Ten a little bit to fit the change in the storyline. Therefore, I have a surprise for you this chapter! Don't you just love new revelations?

--

They stared at each other, uncertainty keeping them frozen in place and unsure how what step to take. The elder of the two was the first to speak. "Are you sure about this?"

The younger shrugged, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Have to face the music sooner or later."

Her companion nodded. "You're probably right. Let's get this started, huh?"

Peyton gave her aunt a grateful smile as she opened the SUV's back door, carefully unbuckling a sleeping Bry from his carseat. "Thank you so much for coming with me, Aly. I don't think I could do this without you."

"Don't sweat it. That's what family's for. Right, babe?"

"Right," was the response she had been expecting from the other side of the car, in the form of a deep, rumbling male voice. A head of close-cropped black hair popped up into view, followed up with a ruggedly handsome face, heavy with stubble and emphasized by a slightly off-center nose- broken in a long-ago fight.

At thirty-one, Connor was Aly's boyfriend of nearly eight years, retired for half-a-decade from the ring after a lifetime of boxing and couching. With his years of rigourous training, he was not only a naturally big man, but built like a linebacker. 6'8'', thickly muscled, broad in shoulder and heavy in chest, he was a naturally imposing presence…until one noticed the warmth in his small, quiet smiles, the softness of his hazel eyes. As he rounded the vehicle and approached them, this was naturally evident in the child he carried

Elizabeth Alyssa Sawyer lay peacefully in his arms, holding her so gently despite their brawn. Unlike her oblivious brother, Lizzie was equally as peaceful but bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Big eyes, feathered by thick lashes, danced, peaches-and-cream complexion glowing with her genuine delight. Baby-fine golden curls and freckles, her mother's nose and mouth; baby blue eyes, her father's dimples when she smiled- Lucas's smile.

She gave her mother a wide smile, giving a little wave. "Hi, Momma."

Peyton smiled, returning the wave. "Hi, honey. Having fun?"

"Yep," the little girl chirped, emphasizing her point by wrapping her tiny arms around Connor's thick neck, snuggling against his shoulder. Connor's face was tender as he glanced down at the baby, his swarthy face blushing when he caught the knowing looks Aly and Peyton gave him when he caught their eyes. Despite all other appearances, Connor Wright was a regular softie, and if there was one thing all three adults knew, it was that Liz particularly adored her Uncle Connie.

Secure in the knowledge that her eldest was in safe hands, Peyton shifted the still out-like-a-light child in her arms to rest more comfortably against her chest, nodding gratefully to Aly when the other woman- the only adult with free hands- moved to pop open the back trunk.

The attention of four out of five of them, however, was diverted when the front door to the Sawyer residence swung open and Larry strided out with a big grin. "Well, well!" his greeting was boisterous, his smile infectious and Peyton was inwardly thrilled to see her father looking so happy and full of life. He was getting older, lines around his mouth, brow and eyes getting deeper, grey threading through his hair, but there was a twinkle in his eyes, a heartiness in his step, at the sight of them that incredibly reassured her.

"Hi, daddy."

"Hi, chicken." So happy to see him, Peyton didn't even think to protest at the childhood nickname. At the sudden flurry of activity, Bry was quietly roused from his sleep and rubbing at his eyes, he looked up curiously at the sudden attention on him. "G'ampa!" he cheered excitedly, upon sleepy recognition.

Larry grinned, wide and proud, as Peyton handed Bry over to him. "Ah. How is my favorite grandson?"

"He's your only grandson."

He smirked at his daughter's wit as Bry was tugging curiously at the scruff of his grandfather's beard. "That's beside the point."

"He's doing well. Getting bigger, smarter and cuter everyday, as you could see.""

"That's my boy. Taking after the old family genes."

Peyton smirked. "Nice try, Daddy. But it's not your DNA that gives him his looks."

"Ouch." Larry rested a hand over his heart, his overdramatic expression spurring giggles from not just one grandchild, but the other as well. Catching the lilt of girly laughter, he quickly directed delighted eyes to the eldest of the twins. "And let's not forget this little princess!"

Peyton stood back, watching as her young twins were swung into her father's arms- the same strong arms that used to hold her so tightly, protecting her from the world, laughter and soft-spoken words filling the air between the reunited family members. Two hands came to rest on her shoulders and without having to look up at the owners', Peyton placed her own over them- one small and slender, the other large and calloused- giving them a grateful squeeze.

Looks like she was home.

--

Life for Lucas Scott at twenty would really be described in one, uncomplicated, up-front word…

…Monotonous.

Routine ruled his world. He woke at five a.m. every morning, went for a run, ate and showered. He went for classes, ate, trained, and went to more classes. Picked his little sister up from daycare, helped out at the café. Ate again. Coached Junior League basketball in the evening, came home and studied, wrote for most of the night. Slept. Woke up and started all over again. You could set a watch by his existence.

Responsible. Reliable. They were characteristics most people associated with him these days. The matrons of the community sang his praises over how dependable and responsible a son/big brother the Scott boy had grown into; the mothers of his players swooned over his charm and looks, how good he was with their kids and how devoted he was to his family; the young ladies whose mothers and grandmothers tried to push them his way agreed he was indeed easy on the eyes and incredibly sweet, but he was a little too serious for their tastes.

Besides, anyone who had gone to Tree Hill High in the last five years would comment, hadn't they ever heard of Peyton Sawyer? That story was practically legendary. No one else in that town could ever catch Lucas Scott's eye. It wasn't like he ever dated, anyway.

Contentment. He supposed that was the other word he could use to describe his life. He wasn't exactly happy, but he wasn't miserable either. He had made a commitment to his mother and his sister after graduation and he never had any intention of breaking it. Taking care of them watching his mother find her joy again, watching Lily grow up, were the greatest rewards he could have ever asked for.

That afternoon, the fragile veil the winter stillness was ripped away by a sudden thunderstorm, the rain pounding down to the earth in heavy, unyielding torrents. He could hear it echoing off the tin roofing above his head, could see the hazy mist of the perspiration fogging up his bedroom window.

He threw his bag to the floor, not carrying of its destination, sighing softly as he removed his watch, necklace and class ring, loosening the buttons to his shirt as for a long, drawn out moment, all he could hear was the sound of the rain and all he could feel was the slight shock of the cold air against his naked skin as he shed the garment, intent on a shower.

It hit him as suddenly as the storm itself had come, but instead, the chaos of this was directed inward, ripping, tormenting, painful, rendering him with an unbalanced feeling as if he was teetering on the edge of a never-ending abyss. That abyss he knew was now what resided inside of him, as an empty, cavernous feeling filled his soul and his eyes misted over with unchecked tears. Something pulled at him- a desperate, aching need to refill it.

He didn't think, made no attempt at logic or rationality as he half-stumbled out of the room, racing down the hallway, his feet pounding erratically against the hardwood floors. The moment the noise was muffled by the ornate rug in the living room, the startled face of his both his mother and sister-in-law as they looked up just in time to see him running through the door, sans shoes and a shirt.

"Luke! Lucas, what on earth are you doing?"

He paid his mother as he continued his mindless race, leaving Haley and Karen staring at each other incredulously in the kitchen, speechless by what they had just witnessed.

--

"He's here, you know."

Peyton winced at her father's candor, nodding wearily. "I know."

"You have to tell him."

"I know."

Frustrated by the repetitive monotone characterizing his daughter's replies, Larry heaved out a heavy breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "I've respected that you've wanted time and space with this until now, but if you don't tell the truth to that boy soon, Peyton Elizabeth, I swear to God-"

"Daddy!" Though shortly shocked by the suddenness of her father's outburst, Peyton recovered from her shock soon enough to cut him off before he wound himself up too badly. "I know, okay!? I know I have to tell him. I know I have to do it soon." She sighed, burying her face in her hands. "I know how selfish I've been. I know how much I screwed things up. I know I have to face this. I know it all, Daddy! What I don't know, is how I'm going to fix this!"

"Oh, honey."

She looked up at him, with eyes more weary than someone her age should have. "Why does he scare me so much, Daddy? He's just a guy."

Larry sat down beside her, gave her a sad smile and reached over to squeeze her hand. "That's the thing, chicken. I don't Lucas can ever be _just_ a guy to you."

It was there, sitting at the kitchen table, her hand firmly in her father's, that she first felt the strange, inexplicable feeling. It was like being torn apart from the inside out, something being forcefully ripped away from the very core of her and being pushed violently back in. It was hastily filled, an unfulfilled void, an excruciating longing she couldn't quite place.

Her first thoughts were of him, of soft blue eyes and unruly blonde hair, of strong arms that held her tight and a sweetly handsome face she knew far better than her own. _Luke…where are you…what's happened to you?_

_Luke?_

"Chicken?"

Peyton was oblivious to her father's concern as she rushed her way down the hall, tempering the way her bare feet occasionally slid against the floor by slipping on the nearest pair of shoes. She crashed her way out of the house, paying no mind to the muffled voices just behind her or the way her feet sank into the dirt rapidly made into mud, or the rain pelting down on her, soaking her to the bone as she fought her way to her destination.

The Rivercourt.

She noticed him instantly, tearing his way through the rain, equally as unprotected against the downpour, if not less. His hair was soaked and plastered against his skull, his pants clinging as close as a second skin to long, strong legs, and water ran down in rivulets from his naked alabaster skin, smooth and flawless and shimmering with dampness over the powerful definition of his musculature.

He was beautiful.

Their eyes met for just a moment, the opaque shade of his, their stormy intensity equal to the angry thunderclouds hovering menacingly in the skies above them, flickering with instant recognition and love, and it was all she needed as she flew into his embrace. His arms were strong and reassuring in their familiarity, and she clung to him, took in the many sensations at once, the real, tangible evidence of him pressed so tightly against her, that he was here and real.

His mouth met hers, softly and chastely, once, twice, and then they seemed to collide together, his hands roughly grasping her hips as he lifted her to him, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, and they came together once more.

She kissed him with a fierce hunger, feeling as if she could devour him, body and heart and soul, anything to just _feel _him once again, and he returned the kiss with equal fervor, neither of their hands idle, his warming the goose-pimpled flesh of her legs, eager to feel her as they slipped up the folds of her skirt to caress the silken skin of her thighs.

Her touch was feverish, fingers tangling through his soaked hair, dancing over his wet skin, wondering how he could feel so cold and yet so unbearably hot, as if their bodies themselves were inflicted by the burning need that infused into their hearts, just to _feel. _

He broke away at the sting of salt and the unmistakable, metallic flavor of blood, and he looked down at her, so her expression utterly lost, her eyes red-rimmed and miserable, the tender flesh of her lower lip swollen and bleeding from where she had bit it to keep from sobbing, a droplet of crimson vivid against her pale complexion.

He cupped a hand to the back of her head, fingers stroking her hair as he gently guided her lips back to his, kissing her softly, cradling her close to him as she shook and a broken sound escaped her throat.

"Talk to me, Peyt."

Her voice was muffled against the skin of his neck, but he felt more than heard them, feeling the force of the emotion behind them reverberate through his very being.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I left you. I've lost you now."

He closed his eyes, blinked away the threat of tears that pricked at the edges of his watery vision, and that tremendous feeling of loss echoed through him once more. He took her hand in his, gently placing it first against his cheek, and she felt the cool flesh there, then against his chest, to feel the steady reverberation of his heartbeat, to the slender column of his neck, to feel the fluttering pulse of his life's blood pounding through his body.

"I'm right here, Peyton. Can't you feel me? I can feel you. You feel so sweet…"

She nodded slowly, smiling softly through her tears as she rested her head against the shoulder, concentrating hard on the feel of him, the steady pulsating of his life he had pointed out to her.

She had spend the last two year living in a dream-like state, trying her best to pretend Tree Hill and Lucas Scott had never existed. That she had never lied, never hurt him, never left him. The full force of this new, stark reality (where he was real, so utterly real) was frightening. Was it possible to feel both euphoric and melancholic, both free and broken?

She knew this was crazy. That after all this time, after everything that happened, that this was their first reaction to reuniting. But at the same time, it seemed like the sanest thing she could possibly do in this situation. There was so much left to talk about, to explain, for him either hate or forgive her for. There was so much left, so much left broken inside them both, so many scars remaining to be healed.

For now…for now, it would wait a few moments. But with Lucas's arms tight around her, the emptiness inside not seeming as frightening as before, she felt that perhaps, this was the first step toward that healing.


	12. Chapter Twelve: A Moment in Time

**Running to Stand Still**

By jd-nomad

**Chapter 12: A Moment in Time**

***A/N: Warning- pure, shameless, GRAPHIC smut ahead. Enjoy, or skip chapter if it's not your cup of tea***

----

They were both drenched to the bone, their wet clothing stuck to them as close as a second skin. Breathing heavily, the sound joined in cadence with the rain padding against the tin roofing, echoing softly against the metallic surface. The door had clicked shut behind them and they stopped, stepping back as they stared at each other with sudden uncertainty.

Peyton studied him, his hair was plastered to his head and droplets ran in tiny rivulets down his face. She followed the water and watched it travel down his bare chest to his stomach, following the same path as the little trail of golden hair disappearing beyond his waistline. His blue eyes bore down into her, their depths as intense and turbulent as the storm outside.

"How did you find this place?" she whispered, her voice husky with unavoidable passion.

Lucas glanced around at the old potting shed that was providing their temporary shelter. They were not far from the Rivercourt, having moved further into the woods to the remains of an aged plantation manor. According to his mother, the house had been lived in for generations by the same family since before the Civil War, but it had been abandoned about a decade before he was born. (1)

"Haley and I used to play hide and seek up here when we were kids." He moved around a little, brushing his fingers against a few rusted tools hanging from the wall. "I don't think I've been here since I was thirteen."

He paused, cocking his head with a sudden thought. "Although…" He went over to a corner with a dusty old cot, rummaging under a nearby tarp, managing to pull out a faded quilt. He shook it out, giving it a discreet sniff. He looked it over, finding no mold, insects, or hidden surprises.

"This should work. Nothing more offensive then a couple of moth holes." He brushed off the cot, tested its sturdiness, and then looked up at her with a satisfied grin.

She laughed softly at his accomplished expression. Their eyes met and a familiar heat sparked once more. Peyton breathed in, feeling strangely calm. Her fingers went to her shirt buttons and she left uncertainty in her wake as she stepped toward him.

His eyes widened as she unbuttoned her blouse, glad to shrug off the soaked, heavy material. While already cold, the absence of the clothes to keep in her body heat brought back the chill. Goosebumps rose up against her skin as she shivered.

Peyton finished undressing, letting her denim shorts drop to the ground. Bra and panties were practical white cotton, no hint of silk or lace, but she was still so breathtakingly beautiful, an undeniably sexy woman. Lucas grunted, nostrils flaring, his jeans all the more uncomfortable as his groin hardened in the tight confines.

His gaze was predatory, greedily taking her in. She smiled at him, eyes a dark and smoky green, and the sultry glint in them sent a thrill through him as she finally closed the distance between them.

She tucked her fingers into his front belt loops, and tugged his unresisting body to her.

They both looked down, he following every movement of her hands. The room's silence was punctuated with the metallic clink of his belt buckle. Next, she absently circled the button below with one finger, than deftly snapped it open. His zipper was lowered, and she purred with approval as she brushed against his rising erection, straining proudly against the tight material of his briefs. He shifted with restless anticipation, and she cupped him gently before moving on.

His belt loosened and she gently tugged. Allowing the jeans to slip down to his hips, she slid her fingers below his waistband, just barely grazing against his flanks. She raised her eyes to his, holding his gaze as she ran her soft hands up his back. Hard and warm, smooth and muscled, he was everything she had ever remembered and dreamed about in the time they'd spent apart.

His breath hitched; a beat of inertia. She lightly scratched her nails against his skin and a groan rose up in his throat. His control weakened, and the time of his submission was over.

He firmly wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him to crash her body into his. He crushed his mouth over hers, but was careful not to hurt her in his urgency. Hard, hot and wet, his kiss devoured her, demanding she submit and hold nothing back, though she was glad to give him everything.

He scarcely gave her time to breathe before he backed her to the wall. He nudged a knee between her legs, pressing himself against the apex of her thighs, Trapped between his body and the wall, her shoulder-blades pressing uncomfortably against the hard surface, she figured she should have felt cornered or caged, but that wasn't the case. Instead, she clutched at him, feeling so small, so unbelievingly female, reveling in it. They quickly did away with the rest of their clothing.

His hand slipped between her legs, a ghostly caress along her inner thighs, brushing against the wet warmth of her wanting him. Her sharp intake of breath was followed by his mouth covering hers, tongue pushing passed her lips, her eagerly meeting him in smooth, frictionless mating.

He fell back against the cot, taking her with him, gently coaxing her to stretch out over him. She felt him hard and painfully erect against her; she rocked into him, whimpering softly at the intimate contact.

"Luke…"

"Yeah?" He ground up against her, picking up the pace between them.

"I want you." It was impossible to deny how much her body wanted him, how much her heart needed him, every part of her aching for him. "Please," she emphasized her plea by rolling her hips against his, tearing a strangled groan from his throat.

"Condom," he grunted, barely unable to keep his focus long enough to voice the words. With a dim thought to the children waiting for her at home, she grasped the little package he had taken from his pants. She flashed him a smile, holding it out to him. He tore open the foil with his teeth, teasingly nibbling on her fingers, receiving a wink in return. She deftly rolled the condom over him, giving him a long stroke for good measure, and nipped at his shoulder. "Don't keep me waiting, Luke."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, tenderly kissing her as he shifted, his hands at her hips, as he gently entered her in one smooth thrust. She closed her eyes in rapture as he filled her, that hot, deep fullness she'd been craving from the moment he put his hands on her. He slowly began to rock her, and she hummed her approval, bracing her hands against her chest to lift herself up, sliding back down to push her hips back against his.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, muscling tensing and contracting as he guided her, controlling the rise and fall of their bodies as they picked up speed. A mess of sound filled the room, his ragged breath; the soft whimpers and mewls of pleasure that escaped her, the slap of naked skin upon skin. Hot, silken walls tightened around him, her moans growing into sharp cries as she moved against him with purpose, taking him deeper to find that spot that would ultimately give her finish.

She stilled above him, her head thrown back as she clenched hard around him. The glow enveloping her in her satisfaction filled him with masculine pride and he thrust again, the ache in his loins becoming nearly unbearable as she sank back into his arms, soft and pliable.

"Peyton…I need…"

Her flushed face, her dewy eyes, and her nod of ascent were all he needed.

She was barely able to breathe before she was tossed onto her back. He parted her legs and thrust back inside her, still wet and quivering in the aftermath of her climax as he began to pound into her. She locked her legs around his waist, opening to him as she arched into him.

She could feel the pleasure building again, still so sensitive, the hot coil in her belly tightening more and more. He felt her clenching around him and he hitched up her leg to drape over his shoulder, deepening his thrusts. "Just let it go, sweetheart," he whispered, dropping kisses to her arching neck.

And she did. She exploded, a sharp cry escaping her, her nails dragging down his back with the intensity of her second orgasm. He continued moving, taking her hard and fast, desperate for his release. His body strained against her, his low grunts becoming more and more exerted.

He rested his forehead against her shoulder and she tangled her fingers in his hair. "That's it, baby," she softly encouraged, moving with him non-protesting at the new, savage rhythm, as his hands pushed at the small of her back, seeking better leverage.

His hips pushed harder against her, the arch of them deepening. She scratched her nails against his scalp, biting and nibbling at his neck. He was close- she could feel it. "That's it, Luke," she whispered throatily, catching his earlobe between her teeth, "Come for me."

His body obeyed, sweat-soaked hair falling over his eyes as he slumped forward, hips giving one last sharp thrust before he emptied himself inside her. He rolled over to lie beside her, Peyton turning to her side to face him. He moved damp curls out of her face to kiss her, giving her the lazy, sated grin of a satisfied man in love. It was a look a woman couldn't soon forget.

She rested her head against his shoulder, head swimming in a mix of pleasure and exhaustion. She could feel his breath slowing, the rise and fall of his chest steady as he surrendered to sleep. In the back of his mind, there was a fuzzy urgency. There was something she had to tell him, something important…

Her eyes closed, submitting to Morpheus despite herself, and she cuddled up to him. It would have to wait.

----

(1) I really didn't have anywhere for them to go. So, I improvised.

**AN 2: I'm horrible, I know. But I can ****promise**** I'll do the big reveal next chapter. I'm still working out how Daddy Luke will react to the Leyton twins. It will, however, be up in the next couple of weeks. **


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Stormy Waters

**Running to Stand Still**

By jd-nomad

***A/N: Warning-sexual content, the kind of stuff you don't see on network television***

**Chapter Thirteen: Stormy Waters **

A cold breeze wafted in through the open window, bringing in the mixture of the brisk scents of the season and the wet muskiness accompanying the descending winter shower.

Peyton lay quietly beside her lover, listening to the sound of the rain and the quiet cadence of his breathing. Her hand rested in the place just above his heart, felt its gentle, steady beating, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. She couldn't help the euphoric, peaceful feeling that filled her, unable to dismiss the contentment and the serenity that came with the aftermath of their lovemaking. It was amazing to be with him like this, and something as simple as lying in bed with her lover, skin to skin, was a sweet and forbidden indulgence.

A wandering foot rubbed against her ankle, hooking around her calf as he shifted beside her. He slipped an arm around her waist to pull her closer. She obliged, fitting perfectly to the contours of his body as she spooned against him. She rested her head on his shoulder as he began to gently stroke her hair, his fingers running through the long, golden tresses. "It's still raining," he murmured softly, the matter-of-fact statement holding an inquiring lilt.

She caught the inflection to his voice, unable to hold back a small smile as she tilted her head to kiss his neck, flicking her tongue against his pulse. "The weather report said it's supposed to storm all night. If it gets too bad, we might have to stay the night."

He gazed up at her fondly through hooded eyes, mouth curving into a smirk. "That's just such a pity, isn't it?"

She laid her hand against his cheek, turning his face to draw his mouth to hers. He returned the kiss lingeringly with a thoroughness that stirred the heat inside her in a slow, steady flame. They parted, breathless, and she smiled as she leaned her head against his. A tiny smile blossomed in reply and he skimmed his hands up the smooth expanse of her back, lingering at her hips, gently cupping the soft swells of her ass, earning a gasp of surprise as he lifted her up to straddle his stomach.

She gazed down at him curiously, wondering at the new position, thought diverted when he reached up to cup her breasts in his hands, teasingly flicking his thumbs over the rosy nubs hardening under his touch. She moaned softly, grasping at his shoulders for some semblance of balance when he suddenly reared up into a sitting position, pulling her tightly to him.

His face level with her chest, his breath hot against sensitized skin, and she shivered. His mouth closed around one soft swell, suckling the nipple between his teeth tight and taut. She gasped his name, her hands sliding up his neck to tangle in his hair, holding him to her. She whimpered in loss when he disobeyed her wishes and drew back, then cried back out in pleasure as he descended once more, lavishing the same attention to the other breast.

Lucas dipped his fingers inside her, wet, hot and ready for him. One finger, two, and she moved against his hand, arching into the slide and friction. He sat up, settling her onto his lap, and with a simple snap of his hips, he was inside her.

The heat generated between them was scalding, and they burned together in a magnificent fire.

She found herself on her back, whimpering with protest as he left her body, though he was soon replaced by her fingers to bring her to the edge and beyond.

Peyton lay beneath him, breathing heavily, aware of a damp slickness at her side as he lay flaccid against her hip. He supported his weight with one hand as he levered above her, using the other to wipe away the evidence of his release with the neglected blanket.

She languidly stroked his back, biting her lip as her thoughts formed to a final conclusion. "Lucas, we need to talk."

Lucas looked down at her, softly smiling as he brushed back her hair. "A guy hears those words," he said with a laugh, "It can never be good."

She reached up, cupping his face. "It's about the baby."

He rolled onto his side, looking down at her curiously. "Yeah, I meant to ask you about that. They okay…him or her okay?"

She smiled, fondly touching her hand to his cheek. "Both, actually. Twins, fraternal- a girl and boy."

He grinned, brightening both face and eyes with pure, light-hearted joy. "Really? What are their names?"

"Elizabeth and Bryan. We call them Liz and Bry."

He nuzzled her neck, making a low humming sound as he pressed his lips to the soft skin. "Those are awesome names."

"I like them. But Luke…there's something I have to tell you."

He cupped her chin, tilting her face toward his. His expression was open, his eyes tender, as he looked at her with trust and adoration. "What is it? You know you can tell me anything."

Peyton swallowed hard, her heart in her throat as she realized that same trust and adoration was not destined to last long.

"Bry and Liz…they're yours, Luke. You're their father."

"No, no, no!!" He shot off the cot.

It couldn't be true. The moment she spoke those words, the moment he escaped her traitorous proximity, his heart and body froze. The world seemed to move in slow motion, ever ragged breath, every twitch of muscle. Even the thundering of his heart slowed to the point of nearly nonexistence.

His mind was sluggish, lethargic, struggling to form a single coherent thought through the shock-induced haze. Thought and feeling fought to banish the numbness, to penetrate the ice that surrounded him. He was so cold. Everything had gone so fucking cold.

"N-no…" A single word fell from his lips as feeling came back to him, his body trembling in the aftershock. The broken voice reaching his ears hardly resembled his own, and yet he knew he had been the one to speak, his desperate attempt to deny what was so blatantly real before him.

_No. No…no…no. No, no, __**NO!**_

He refused to believe that the one person he trusted the most in the world had betrayed him. He refused to believe she would hurt him that badly. It was a joke, right? It had to be a joke. A cruel way for her to be pulling his leg, but it was just a joke. It just had to be.

Except there was no denial on Peyton's face, no solace for him to be found in her look of pain, in the tears in her eyes. He was a father. He had a son and daughter.

And Peyton had lied to him.

The cold, numb nothingness began to melt away; the rush of molten heat that accompanied rage enveloped him in the arms of devastation. Denial faded into anger- hard, heavy and burning.

"How could you?!" he bit out, jaw tight as his fists clenched at his sides. "How could you do this to me?"

"Luke, I-"

"No, no! You told me to my face, Peyton. You told me your baby wasn't mine. You looked in my eyes and lied to me!"

By now, he was yelling, his body screaming, and eyes black and stormy. Peyton instinctively backed away. "Lucas, I'm sorry, I did the wrong thing-"

"That's for damn sure. I trusted you, Peyton, _**you**_!!! You fucking had my children and you hid it from me, lied about it. God, you know how I feel about being a father."

"…how could you do this to me…?" the words were filled with such pain, echoing through the cold, heavy air. She could scarcely breathe with her resounding guilt.

He raised his head once more, expression unreadable. For the first time she could remember, his emotions were so tangled and erratic she could not clearly read him. Lucas was never more who easily admitted to vulnerability of any sort. And he didn't have to say a word; she could feel the raw pain roaring beneath the surface.

He released a broken sound, somewhere between a moan and a sob, viciously rubbing his face uncomfortably wet with tears he had been bitterly shedding, desperately turning away from her for some kind of retribution. He put needed space between them and he took it, tugging on his damp, rumpled jeans.

She panicked, desperately searching his eyes for some answer, but she found them again open and raw, resounding within her with a familiar ugly shame.

"Luke, wait-"

He shook his head, holding up his hands as he rapidly backed away. "I can't…I just can't…"

He was out the door before her tears even had a chance to fall.

**Next chapter: Peyton talks with her family, Lucas needs a friend, and the twins finally meet their father. **


End file.
